Leaves of Glass
by Angel With No Wings
Summary: Pain. Heartache. Sorrow. Loss. Betrayal. These are the things the Prince of Mirkwood has known in his long life. Sometimes it seems to the young human that wishes to befriend him, that the elf is as hard as stone. Sometimes, he fears he will shatter him.
1. A Forest's Anger

And the winner of the contest is... *drum rolls start* *muses whisper to the author* They already know. They had to click on the title to get here. *drum rolls stop* Well fine then, spoil my fun.

Anyway, by an astonishing 3 to 1 ratio "_Leaves of Glass_" has beaten out its competitor "_Meldir__, Gwador, Gwarth" to be my next story. Apparently Legolas is not interesting enough on his own. To all of you who voted for the prequel, I'm sorry. But I promise it will be the next story I post. When that will be I have no idea. In the meantime you'll just have to speculate on what happened to our dear elf._

To all of those who do not know me and my work, this is the sequel to the only other Lord of the Rings story I have. The other one is called "Memories of Ilithien" and can be found in my profile of course. I don't believe that you need to read the other to understand this, but that is only a guess as I have not yet written the entire thing. As the story progress you made find yourself not understanding what's going on and may need to read the other.

**Summary - Pain. Heartache. Sorrow. Loss. Betrayal. These are the things the prince of Mirkwood has suffered in his long life. And to they brash young Ranger that wishes to befriend him, the prince of the Firstborn seems to have grown hard as stone. But sometimes, he fears he will shatter him.**

**Disclaimer - Anyone who actually believes that I own/created/are affiliated with/make profit off of the most amazing creation to every grace the written page since the Bible was made, are in serious need of mental help.**

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 1 - A Forest's Anger**

Strider, Elrond-Halfelven's foster son, Ranger of the North, crept slowly through the dense forests on the outskirts of Mirkwood, his senses alert, listening, feeling for the disturbance he felt in the air. The woods screamed so loudly that even he, mortal Man that he was, could hear their anger, their rage. The devastating fury had pulled him from his camp, drawing him to the maddened forest.

He went slowly, searching behind every tree, peering under every bush, looking for what could possibly have aroused the wrath of the ancient trees so mightily. His sword was drawn, held tightly in his hand, ready for anything. His body was tense, waiting. For what he didn't know.

The trees were restless in their anger, shaking, their leaves blowing though no wind reached through their thick canopy. The darkness around the young human seemed to pull at him, breaking through his senses, stealing his thoughts, mulling over them then tossing them to the heavens. No creature moved in the dark depths of Mirkwood's trees, no wildlife sounded the songs of growing night. All he could see, hear, breath was the trees and their anger.

The trees screamed at him in their language, cursing him, accusing him. He heard a branch crash down behind him, looked up to see the leaves shaking in earnest; tree limbs seemed to stretch out towards him, condemning him, reaching for him. For his death.

He stepped into a tiny beam of light that shown on the thick carpet of dead leaves, the light glinting off his sweat-soaked hair, shining into his eyes, making them sparkle a brilliant silver. He looked up, through the thick canopy of tree limbs, still quaking, still reaching for him, and saw the darkening sky overhead. He knew if he stayed in the raging forest past nightfall he would surely die. Every moment the darkness grew deeper, dragging him to his doom.

He twisted in the ray of light, facing the direction he had come. He would return to the forest on the morrow, he told himself. Tonight he wished only to stay alive long enough to do so. He stepped out of the sunlight, back into the suffocating darkness to the tree boughs. 

He let out a startled cry when a rough limb smacked him in the face, throwing him to the ground, his unshaven cheek left raw from the bark. He had stayed too long.

The trees quivered in anger, reached for him, pulling at him, trying to break him. He did not want to die this way.

"_Im_ thelle ú haru!_" He shouted from the forest floor, hoping the trees would listen to him. "_Im___ iest na-erui o gwanno sen dôr.__ Dâfo nin gwanno!" **("I mean you no harm!" "I only wish to leave this place. Let me go!")**_

Immediately the trees stopped. The leaves stilled, the boughs turned back. Strider stood slowly, watching the dark trees that surrounded him cautiously, as their wrath seemed to flow away like a slow stream.

As he straightened the air shifted again, but this time he felt something else surround him. Not anger but... hope? Yes, hope, mixed with a great deal of urgency. The trees stirred again, their boughs shifting, all their hard limbs creaking as they seemed to point to the North, farther into the black woods.

The dark green leaves shook violently, trembling urgently as Strider passed them, slowly walking towards the direction they 'pointed'. At this the Ranger sped up, walking swiftly through the trees, their boughs parting to let him pass, wondering what caused the trees to feel such a desperate need as to talk to a Man.

He sped on, detouring past large boulders, skirting fallen logs, following the desperate cries of the frantic trees. He splashed through an ankle high, black pool, spraying the water in his haste, soaking his boots to the knee. He raced past woodland creatures, startling a grazing doe and her two fawns, sending birds flying from their grounded nests. He didn't even take the time to wonder how he would get back; he just kept running towards the unknown end the trees led him too.

Finally, out of breath, bloodied by branches that had not left his path quickly enough, and thoroughly lost, he stumbled into a small, squared clearing. As he leaned one hand on the rough bark of a dark tree he could feel the relief, the joy, in the trees. They stopped shaking, stopped pointing him on. He had reached his destination.

Strider looked up, blinking away the sweat that dripped into his eyes, searching for the reason he had been brought here. He gasped at what met his eyes.

Across the clearing an elf sat against a dark tree, his head bowed, his long hair shielding his face as it fell in a long golden river over his head and shoulders. He seemed peaceful, sitting alone in the quite woods, like he was simply basking in the nature around him. He looked almost asleep with his head bent to the forest floor.

That is, he would have if he had not had an arrow protruding from the center of his hands, pinning them to the dark tree above his head.

A wind suddenly blew through the clearing, sending the elf's blonde tresses flying around his face like golden leaves torn from a tree. When the wind died and the long locks settled again Strider gasped once more.

"Legolas!" The young Ranger shouted as the elf's fair features were shown.

The trees quivered at the name of their prince, urging the human to the other side of the clearing, begging his help. Strider immediately raced to the elf's side, kneeling beside him as his eyes swept over his thin body.

The prince's clothes, forest-hued and adorned with the symbol of the royal house, were torn and bloody. His hair fell in a disheveled cascade around his shoulders and face, hiding his eyes. His chest rose and fell in jagged breaths. His hands, pierced with the arrow, were covered in drying and new blood, the dark red still running in a stream down his arms, staining his tunic all the way to his chest as the blood continued to fall.

Strider reached up and gently touched the bark near Legolas' bloody hands. The tree beneath his fingers cried out in misery. It aided in its prince's suffering.

Strider bit his lip and looked at Legolas again. He gently brushed the long blonde hair away from the elf's face, tucking it softly behind one delicately pointed ear. The prince's eyes were closed, hiding the brilliant blue orbs from the world, sign that the pain had become too much to bear for the Eldar.

The young human stared at the pain-ridden elf, lost. After all the time spent training with his foster father he now faced his first true emergency and he had no idea what to do. He breathed heavily, praying for guidance from the Valar, seeking the aide of Elbereth, she that loved the Elves most of all.

He heard nothing in return but the desperate shaking of the trees. Help him, they said. Save our prince.

"I shall do my best." He whispered.

He cast one more look at the unconscious elf, then he pulled his knife from its sheath at his hip. He then cut a long strip from the bottom of his shirt, then another, laying them across his lap, ready to be used. 

Then he reached up and took the end of the arrow in his hands and snapped it off just above the prince's skin, leaving a jagged edge still embedded in the tree and his hands. He tossed the feather-adorned wood into the forest. The trees quivered as they accepted the weapon that had so wounded their prince.****

"_Díheno__ nin, caun." He muttered in Sindarin. **("Forgive me, prince.")**_

Then Strider gently took both wounded hands in his, holding them firmly by the delicate wrists and long, thin fingers, and pulled them away from the tree.

Legolas woke with a scream.

**To Be Continued...**

*cries* Ah the shortness of it all! I read it and read it and edited it and edited it, but I just could not find a way to make it any longer, I'm sorry! This will not be the norm. Well, at least not to this extent.

But anyway, go review. Yes. Tell me you love it, tell me you hate it, tell me you didn't understand it and think I need to go back to elementary school. Just review.

Until next time!

Adrienne


	2. Whispers

*stares dumbfounded at the reviews*

*blinks*

*stares again*

Wow. Just... wow. You guys are amazing. That... I... You... Wow. Thank you.

And for all those who wish to know, I post a new chapter every Sunday night. I know, that seems like a long time to wait, especially when you get other authors who post every other day. But that's just not a possibility with me. Sorry.

**To my wonderful, and numerous, reviewers -**

**Templa**** Otmena - And I can't tell you how happy I am to be receiving you reviews again. I know that it seemed the logical choice, Legolas coming to the rescue of the poor helpless human, but I strive to do the totally illogical. *grins* As for the tree aspect, I'm very glad you found it so enjoyable. I wanted very much to show that of them. After all, Legolas had been living in Mirkwood for thousands of years, and with his relationship with living things (one of the things I've always loved about Tolkien's dear character) I figured that they would love him as much as he loved them. And I hope you can forgive me for the short chapter once again. *cringes* I really do try.**

**Estel Elven Enchantress - No problem, babe. I didn't even expect to get as many votes as I did. It was a pleasant surprise to tell you the truth. I hope you're happy with the outcome.**

**Laebeth**** - *cringes* Yes, much with the shortness. I'll try really really hard to write longer chapters. Starting after this one.**

**silvertoekee**** - Yes, angst is good. *grins* Why do I torture him so? Why? Eh, at least you enjoyed it. That makes me feel a little better abut my twisted mind. :P**

**Deana - To be honest... I'm really not sure yet. lol. I have a vague idea, but that's about it. Tells you how great of an author I am huh? *laughs***

**Sara - I love 'window shopping' and finding that one great fic that you've passed over a thousand times, but then absolutely love when you finally get to it. Not that I'm saying that my story falls in that category. I was just saying... wow that sounded conceited. *blushes* lol. Anyway, I'm glad you enjoyed it, and yes, I also wish to know why so many people torture the poor little elf.**

**SilverKnight7 - Okay!**

**Starlit Hope - Yes, I'm sure it does.**

**lembas7 - Well thank you. Always glad to be considered a 'favorite'. I hope you find me worthy. And for your questions... It is the year 2958. Read my other story to find out. I'm not sure yet (and I agree on the orc thing so we can both rule that out). Maybe.**

**Beth - Of course I'll be giving you one... :P**

**cherryfaerie**** - Thank you, yes, and read the author's not above.**

**wadeva**** - Be anxious no longer my dear.**

**mystic23 - Sorry. Didn't mean to freak you out. Glad you liked it though.**

**Slea**** - Well okay then, here you are.**

**twinlady**** - Thank you!**

**tonianne**** - Thank you and okay.**

**Immortal Sadness - Thank you and I will.**

**Meeeeeeee**** - Well, I don't normally comply with demands. But since you said please...**

**Mykaela**** - I hope so too. Thank you for your wonderful review. I'm glad to be able to give anything 'new' to the amazing works of Tolkien.**

**LegolasLover2003 - Okay, I get it. Hands, yes, poor hands. lol. And you know me and cliffies. I just love 'em!**

**MG87 - Hands you a few more chill pills. You know, you're really depleting my supply here. :P But no worries, I will survive for the late update, please don't feel guilty. By the way, what does your name stand for? I've always wondered, but kept forgetting to ask.**

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**** Chapter 2 - Whispers ****

Legolas' scream echoed through the dark forest and the trees trembled at the sound. Strider cringed but did not back away, or release the prince's hands. Blood had already started to flow in earnest from the now open wounds. He immediately started to bind them with the strips from his shirt.

Legolas opened his eyes as the echo fell away. His deep, tear filled eyes focused on the top of Strider's head and he immediately tried to pull away, his back hitting the bloodstained tree, a muffled cry escaping his lips as he pulled his wounded hands from Strider's grasp.

"Legolas, _daro_.___ Le harn. Dâfo nin buio le." Strider said softly, reaching again for the elf's wounded hands. His eyes came up to meet those of the prince and his heart broke at the fear in them. **("... , stop. You're wounded. Let me help you.")**_

At the sound of his own tongue being spoken by this Man, Legolas stilled, and his pain-riddled mind allowed him to remember. Estel. This is Estel.

"_I car-sen o le_?" Strider asked, keeping to the elven words. He grasped the prince's hands in his own and began to wrap them again. **("Who did this to you?")**

Legolas watched him as he worked. He cringed when he pulled the knots tight but did not cry out again. "_Edain." He whispered after a long moment, his voice tinged with hatred and... blame._

"Humans!" Strider exclaimed, pulling away from the prince in shock. "Humans would dare to attack one of the Firstborn?"

A shadow passed over Legolas' eyes and he laughed without mirth. "You are sheltered, child." He said, pulling his now wrapped hands back to his body, cradling them against his chest. He sat up slowly. "This is not the first time it has happened. And it won't be the last."

Strider backed up as the elf stood. Even without the use of his hands he stood gracefully, moving to his knees then rising slowly. His bright eyes looked down at Strider, passing over him as if assessing what he saw, stopping at his hands which were now covered in his blood. Then he turned and started towards the edge of the clearing, heading farther into the dark forest.

"Wait!" Strider shouted, scrambling to his feet and cutting off the retreating elf's path. "You can't go in there." He said, blocking the prince from moving around him. Legolas just stared at him with eyes that spoke of years the young human could never hope to understand. He moved to pass him again. Strider blocked him again.

Legolas' eyes, which a moment before had held appreciation if not a little contempt, were now full of anger. He would not allow this human brat to deny him his way in his own forest. "_Rinc." He demanded, his tone sharp, challenging. **("Move.")**_

Strider held firm under the cold gaze and harsh words. He knew what he was doing was right. "The forest is dangerous." He tried again. "You cannot-"

"This is my kingdom!" Legolas snapped, his eyes flashing. Then he stepped around Strider and marched on.

But the brash young human would not give up so easily. He spun around and once again blocked the prince's path. Legolas growled at him and tried to side-step him again, but Strider put a hand on each of his arms, holding him in place.

"You have lost too much blood." He said slowly, weighing each word before he let it pass his mouth. "You are weakened. And with your injuries you cannot fight off an attack. Please. Come back to my camp, let me heal you. Then you will be in no danger."

Legolas backed away from Strider's hands but did not try to leave. "I do not need help from a human." He seethed, his eyes conveying emotions Strider knew he meant not to show. "This is my kingdom, my home. I am safe here."

Strider reached out and pulled his wounded hands, still held tightly against his chest, before him. "_U band far_." He whispered. **("Not safe enough.")**

Legolas did not pull away from him this time. He stared down at his bleeding hands, wrapped in strips of Strider's own tunic. He tried to flex his fingers but a sudden jolt of pain, like lighting crashing through a tree, raced up his arms and coursed through his body. It took every ounce of his strength and pride to keep from crying out.

But Strider saw the pain flash across his porcelain features for the briefest of moments. "You cannot even grasp a weapon, that of which I don't even see. You cannot make it back to your home alone."

"I-"

"Don't think of it as seeking aide from a Human, but a fellow warrior." Strider said, cutting off his reply. He ignored the small scoff that escaped the prince's lips.

"Please." The human said again, his voice tinged with the slightest hint of desperation as he looked into Legolas' timeless eyes. "Let me help you."

A war raged behind the elf's eyes as he stared down at his ruined hands. Blood was already seeping through the bindings, leaving small points of bright red throughout the brown cloth and the pain from the wounds was spreading outwards, taking over his entire being. His knees felt as if they would fail should he move and even now he swayed on his feet and his vision spun, threatening to send him into darkness once again.

The trees trembled above him, offering their protection, calling him back to them. But they were dark now; not as they had been long ages past, and their branches were filled with evil things. Spiders roamed the ancient wood, attacking where they would for the great creatures feared no one. And orcs wandered the forests as well, though they did not stay long nor stray too far; they feared the trees.

But what frightened the prince of Mirkwood was the only other thing of evil that dared enter the dark woods. Humans.

A shudder passed through his body as he stared at his hands. They had not left him there to die. No, if they had wished him dead he would be.

'They will come back for you.' A voice whispered through his mind. 'You will not escape again.'

Legolas gasped and pulled his hands back, clutching them to his chest again. He turned away from the Ranger, starring out into the dark forest; his whole body felt as if he were trapped in a bog, it's thick, murky waters surrounding him and pulling them into its depths. "I am not weak." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. The trees shook again.

Strider stared at the prince's back. He could see a slight tremble beneath the thin cloth of his tunic. "_Istos_, nin caun_." The young human said softly. "I did not say you were. Under normal circumstances I have no doubt that you are a true warrior. But you cannot protect yourself with these injuries." **("I know, my prince.")**_

Legolas turned back slowly, his eyes meeting the Rangers.

He saw the world of Men in his eyes. The deceit and betrayal and ruthlessness that seem to cloud each mortal mind. The innate ability to disregard all life simply for their own gain. The greed and hatred and callousness that had caused him so much pain.

But he saw something more as well, something deeper, something that was truly a part of him. Something he had never understood. It was something kind. Gentle. Honest. Familiar.

'He will hurt you.' The voice whispered again. Strider extended his hands once again in a gesture of peace, waiting for the elf's answer. But no answer came.

"Estel..." The immortal whispered. Then the prince's dark eyes rolled to the back of his head and he slumped to the ground in an ungraceful heap, the whispered words echoing in his head.

**To Be Continued...**

See, I'm a little anal when it comes to writing my stories. I like to have at least two chapters written before I post a new one for you guys. The amount I have finished now? Nothing. Not one single word after what you just read. And I'm freaking out. Now, no worries, you WILL get your update exactly when promised, I just need to go threaten my muses for a while. They'll come around once I reason with them. I hope.

*panicking ensues*

Until next time!

Adrienne

**P.S. I apologize in earnest for the shortness of it. I will try extra-super-hard to make the next one significantly longer. *marches off to have a chat with my muses***


	3. Unanswed Questions

It is now 2:27 in the morning and I am just now finishing this chapter. Ridiculous. I'm sorry but I will only be responding to the reviews that had questions, as I wish to go to bed now. All you others who sent me your commendation, I thank you.

**cherryfaerie**** - Well, I update every Sunday night. And as for the elvish translation, I got them from a program I downloaded from a website. Only I can't remember the web-address. *grins* I know someone who has it though, so I'll be able to tell you next week.**

**Widfire2 - This is before the quest. It takes place in the year 2958, putting Aragorn at the age of 27. The Quest began in the year 3018. And there will be one eventually. I try not to stray too far from Tolkien's work, because he is a genius and you can't alter genius, so I don't do much AU. As for how they met, if you read my other story you will find out my version. :)**

**MG87 - No worries. Don't care when I get the reviews, as long as I get them. *grins* As for the category, I placed it under Drama first, then Angst. So it'll show up in the drama section when you're looking for it. I don't plan on having that much torture, or the body or mind, going on in this one so I decided it best fit under Drama. Although, that is subject to change. My twisted mind can't go too long without torturing my poor little elf. *maniacal laughter ensues***

**" Leaves of Glass "**

**** Chapter 3 - Unanswered Questions ****

It was dark. The trees were silent, still. So still they seemed almost made of stone. Legolas walked slowly through the quiet forest, looking, waiting. There was a noise. A laugh. A harsh, barking laugh that promised no happiness; only suffering.

And then there was pain. It started at his hands, then quickly spread through his body, biting, tearing, consuming. He looked at his hands. Blood. Dark, crimson blood; coating his skin, soaking into his shirt. His own arrow lay at his feet, mocking him, telling him of his weakness.

His vision swam and his body felt light, hollow. He blinked. There was a voice. A low voice, singing softly. He couldn't hear the words. He tried to follow the voice, tried to find the song.

The laughter started again. He was pulled away and the soft voice was silenced. He struggled. The laughter was directly behind him. He felt something reaching. A hand. Coming for him, trying to drag him away.

He woke with a gasp.

He was lying on the ground, wrapped in a rough cloak, his head pillowed on a knoll of grass. It was dark out, though there were no trees obscuring the sky as he expected. The singing was clear now, coming from his left. The voice was rough as well, but the song was of his people.

He tried to sit, moving to push himself up with his hands, but the moment they touched the ground the dream, and the events of the previous morning, came rushing back to him as searing pain raced up his arms and through his body. He cried out and fell back to the ground. The singing stopped.

"_Deri an îdh." Estel's soft voice said from beside him. Legolas felt the Ranger's presence settle on his left. "__Le faeg harn. Im garo maban le an nín echad an nesta-le." **("Stay still." "You are badly wounded. I have taken you to my camp to heal you.")**_

Legolas looked up at the Ranger warily. He had expressly voiced his opinion on wishing to stay far from the human's camp. Centuries of hatred and mistrust were not easily shed, even for this Man who had proved himself to be honest and noble. The prince struggled to rise once again, burdened by the cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders. When Strider saw his struggle he moved to help him, but quickly stopped when the elf jerked away from his hands.

"How did you find me?" Legolas asked once he was sitting up. He looked around to more clearly see his surroundings. He was on a small rise in a field; a plain more like, it's flat, smooth grasses stretching out to the horizon even as far as his elven eyes could see, its surface interrupted only by short trees and sparse bushes. The forest, his forest, lay some ways to his left, its dark trees silhouetting the night sky, blocking out the twinkling pinpricks of the stars.

"The trees." Strider answered, not moving, only watching as the prince took in his surroundings. "Let me see your hands."

"I don't need-"

"_Daro." Strider demanded gently. "Do not do this, my prince. It will be easier on both of us if you would simply accept my help." **("Stop.")**_

Legolas' gaze returned to the human, his senses telling his that the brash young man spoke true. He briefly recalled the whispered voices he had heard in the clearing, but quickly shook their memory away. Reluctantly he held out his hands for the Ranger to see. He could not look himself.

In time, he knew, his hands would heal and not even a scar would be left on the perfect flesh of his immortal body. But now they were nothing but ruins. Useless relics of what once were the most accurate hands in all of Mirkwood. So many centuries he had perfect his skills, and now, now he could not even curl his fingers around his bow.

"They took it." He whispered, flinching slightly as Strider undid the blood-covered bindings.

"What?" The Ranger asked, his gaze briefly searching the prince's profile before returning to his task.

"My bow." The elf replied, his eyes wandering towards the horizon where dawn was beginning to make itself known.

As the two sat in silence, pitch black turned to darkest gray and the first rays of the sun crept over the end of the plains, stretching out to banish the night once more, bringing a new day, but no new light to the torn soul that sat at the edge of a forest on Arda's stone.

"My brother gave it to me." Legolas continued, his eyes turning away from the false dawn, his mind frantically searching for a distraction from his dark thoughts. He had no wish to return to that sordid road.

Strider poured a small amount of warmed water onto the prince's hands; holding them gently at he jerked involuntarily. Legolas relaxed again quickly though his eyes still did not meet the humans. Strider ignored this and gently rubbed away the blood from around the wounds then smoothed on a thick amount of a sweet smelling paste.

"Then we shall have to get it back." He said softly, his eyes glancing up to meet the prince's for a moment. But that moment lasted an eternity.

***

With his hands newly wrapped in fresh bandages and the sun finally creeping over the horizon Legolas pondered the young human's words. Get it back... But how? And why?

That was a question that had often found its way to the elf's mind over the past years. It had been 9 years since the death of his beloved, and very nearly his own passing from Middle-Earth, and he could not keep thoughts of the young human from his mind.

No experience in his past had proved good when it came to humans, except for this one. Pain was all he had found at the hands of the Secondborn, but in Estel he had found only tenderness and healing. Why?

Why would this _Edain_ child care for one of the Eldar? Why would he turn his back on his own people to see him safe? Was it his upbringing? Surely to be raised by elves, by Arda's greatest healer and wisest lord at that, had to reverse some of what was ingrained into the minds of the race of Man. **(... Human ...)**

But was that all? Was that all that attributed to his kindness, his mercy, his love?

But the prince had no more time to ponder these thoughts that were ceaseless inside his frenzied mind. Strider, as the young human had said to call him now, returned to his side bearing two crude wooden bowls. Steam was rising from their contents, disappearing into the cold morning air, and a simple yet mouth-watering smell was wafting towards him on the chill breeze that was blowing. Legolas realized with ire that he had not eaten in over two days.

Strider settled down beside him again, crossing his legs beneath himself as he sat surprisingly gracefully without the use of his hands. "It's not much." He said, settling the two bowls on his bent knees. "But it's not bad if I do say so myself." He gave Legolas an impertinent grin then handed one of the bowls to the prince.

Legolas reached out to take the offered porridge, but stopped when his eyes caught sight of the bandages. He could not even hold the bowl for the pain it caused, how was he to grasp the spoon?

Strider seemed to have realized the same, for he pulled the bowl back again, staring resolutely at the contents. He opened his mouth to speak, but fell silent when two bandaged hands reached out for the bowl and pulled it away from him. He looked up to see the elf's face pale as his hands shook under the weight of the bowl in his wounded palms.

Legolas would not allow himself to appear weak in front of this human; he could manage such a simple task as feeding himself. He moved one hand from the bottom of the bowl and raised it to the rough spoon that was submerged in its contents. He grit his teeth and tried to curl his long fingers around the end, but another shooting pain coursed through his arm and he dropped the bowl as tears filled his eyes.

He nearly jumped when Strider's hand reached out to catch the bowl before it hit his lap. "Maybe I could-" The Ranger began, but was quickly cut off when Legolas jumped to his feet and stepped away from the human, the tears in his eyes replaced with rage in an instant.

"I would rather face all the evil in Mordor than be fed from the hands of a human." He seethed, his eyes darkening, his lips pulling back in a sneer.

"Would you now?" Strider asked, his tone full of sarcasm as he stood to face the prince, angry as well for the elf's vexation at his attempts at friendship and aid. How could anyone be so stubborn as to refuse life-saving assistance? "It will take days, perhaps even weeks, before you will have the use of your hands again; for though the healing abilities of elves are widely know your wounds are still grievous. Will you go that long without food? Or water? Simply for your own pride?"

'You are weak.' That same loathsome voice filled Legolas' head. 'He knows it.'

'I am not weak.' He cried back silently, his face now an expressionless mask as Strider seethed in front of him. 'I will not give this wretch the satisfaction of subjecting me to such humiliation.'

"Yes." He replied aloud, his eyes spitting fire. Then he turned on his heal and stalked away from the camp.

"Fine!" The young human shouted as he walked away. "Starve to death! I do not care!" Then he sat back down and picked up bowl, its contents now disgustingly cold, and began to eat.

*

'Why am I still walking?' Legolas asked himself as the chill wind whipped Strider's false words around his head. 'I cannot survive on my own. I must return to him if I am to live.'

But his pride kept him moving. If only for a while.

*

'I cannot let him go out there alone.' Strider thought irately as he watched the elf's figure get smaller and smaller. 'He will die on his own. I must go after him.'

But he continued to sit and stare at the retreating form. If only for a while.

**To Be Continued...**

Well, this one was _slightly_ long. *shrugs* Goodnight now. I must be go think of the next chapter, as I do not wish to do this again. Though, I do work better under pressure.

Oh, and I do promise it will start getting more interesting. I know these last two chapters have been sort of slow and I apologize for that.

Until next time!

Adrienne


	4. Honor and Darkness

And now I must rave, since the final chapter of the epic tale has finally come out (and I've seen it twice already). **Spoiler alert!!!** Do **not** read the coming **italicized part if you do not wish to hear about "The Return of the King"!!! Just skip on to the story!**

_Oh my God! Amazing! Absolutely 100% amazing! Better than the first two! Beyond belief! Jackson did a truly amazing job with this one! The battle scenes were totally amazing. Pelannor fields... astounding! When the Rohirrim finally came, blowing their horns, riding in all their glory... chilling! The Army of the Dead... awesome! When our three favorite heroes jumped from the Corsairs ships to fight the orcs... so cool! When Legolas took down the Oliphuant all by himself... loved it! Merry and Pippin... adorable as usual. The scene where Pippin is singing and Faramir is riding off to battle and nearly is death... that was a stroke of genius on Jackson's part. By far one of the best scenes in all three movies. (Billy Boyd has an awesome voice, as does Viggo Mortensen.) When Sam rescued Frodo from the tower... I nearly cheered. And the part in the end where Aragorn thanks Legolas, that scene right there adds all kinds of fuel to my stories. I love those two!_

_Now, things I didn't like. They cut out Saruman at Isengard. That would have been an awesome scene. When Merry and Pippin were separated, I nearly cried. I hated that part in the book, I hated it in the movie. Any and all scenes containing that hideous freak of nature known as Shelob. *shudders* Major arachnophobic here. Also, the part in the beginning where they further explained Sméagol's... evolution. That part was pointless and the time could have been used to do 'Ths Scouring of the Shire' instead. And the worst part (and the one thing I would have been happy for Jackson to change) was when Frodo leaves his Sam. Not cool. Just... no._

_Other than that is was absolutely amazing and by far my favorite movie ever! They will never be able to top this, ever! (Although, everyone said that about the 'Star Wars' trilogy as well.) And may I just add on one final note... the scene near the end where everyone came into Frodo's room to see him after he had destroyed the ring... Aragorn and Legolas look so damn **hot!!**_

**And now to my wonderful reviewers - **

**Templa**** Otmena - Strider is precisely 27 in this story, as I had him at 18 in the last. And I'm sorry, but there wasn't much of an 'outcome' for their fight. I had them make nice, at least, as best as they could, in the 'untold' story that goes on between chapters, as I wished to move on with the story. I hope you still enjoy the chapter though.**

**MG87 - Patience my dear. Patience. I will never not post, I assure you. *sighs* The wait os over. In some ways, it makes me sad. It's all over. Everything. But, as you can tell from my rather excited and blathering gush about the movie above, I did quite enjoy it. :)**

**Estel Elven Enchantress - I'm sorry, babe, but this chapter may have to be placed in you 'too long' category. It just sort of ran away with me. *grins***

**silvertoekee**** - No worries. I feel ya on the sleep thing. And no, our dear elf does not yet trust Strider. Hundreds of years of mistrust and hatred are rather hard to get over. The people that hurt him took his bow, and you will find out soon who they are (I just figured it out myself *grins*). And you'll just have to wait and see if they ever get along. :)**

**Starlit Hope - I concur.**

**hobby**** - Thank you!**

**C-Chan10 - Well thank you. And as for the Sindarin, I found a lovely little website that has an English-to-Sindarin dictionary that you can download. It's very useful.**

**SilverKnight7 - Okay!**

**Deana - I agree. *grins***

**Michelle - Ah, my dear, I truly wish I could, but I am afraid it is not a possibility. As I have stated in previous Author's Note, once a week is all I can manage. I'm very sorry.**

**BashirXena**** - You're welcome. And as for Legolas, he has his reasons. I know I make him a little (or a lot) OOC, but I'll fix him eventually, I promise.**

**Coolio02 - Well, I'm sure both traits come naturally to elves. I mean, if you were that perfect, don't you think you might be a little prideful too? I know I sure would. :)**

**Alexis-Greenleaf - Brilliant? Goodness. Thank you I'm sure. And as for your question, no. I don't write slash. *shrugs***

**Gwyn**** -** Hmm. It may, it may not. As my readers still do not know yet what happened to our dear elf, I am loathe to let Aragorn find out. I may have to wait until after I write and post the other story. And before you even ask, it will not be posted until after this one is done. I am incapable of writing two stories at once.

And a side not to **cherry-fearie**, I'm soo sorry, but I did not contact my friend for that website! I will have it for you in the next post. I promise promise promise!

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

** ** Chapter 4 - Honor and Darkness ****

Strider and Legolas sat silently on the edge of the woods, watching the darkening camp at the base of the trees. Night was falling quickly on this chill winter day, the third since the prince's rescue; the stars were beginning to show their light to the earth below and the last rays of the sun were disappearing behind the far off mountain ranges to sleep until the morrow. And all of Arda seemed still, peaceful as the two warriors sat and watched. But this camp, though the air around it was filled with laughter, was dead and cold.

This was the camp of the rouges that had dared attack the prince in his own lands.

"_Di_ garo rem mûl_." Strider whispered into Legolas' ear from his place beside the prince in a dark, ancient tree. **("They have many slaves.")**_

"Ai." Legolas replied, his voice tinged with anger and disgust. "I saw the wretched creatures when their masters beat me."

Strider cast a glance at the elf then peered once again into the camp at their feet. And wretched they were, the slaves that kept the camp. They were starved and tired, their clothes little more than rags, and their masters' disapproval apparent in the dark bruises that colored their pale skin. Women were the more numerous, their thin bodies hunched and broken as they tended the cooking pots and prepared the beds for the men. Strider did not wish to think of how many of the poor creatures would be sharing those beds that night.

"Then why, I wonder," The Ranger said as his gaze fell from one beaten body to the next. ", did they not take you? Surely you would have been more useful to them than these pitiful beings. They all walk a thin line between this life and death's door.  A very thin line." As Strider watched them something struck him as odd about the unfortunate humans. Something, beyond their slavery, wasn't quite right. But he had no time to contemplate this as Legolas answered his question.

"It was a message." The prince said cryptically. Strider turned back to him once more but the elf did not meet his eyes. Instead he turned towards the woods and their own camp, glancing down at the leaf littered earth before moving to leave his high perch.

Before he could go Strider grabbed his arm, pulling his injured hand away from the branch he was about to grip. "You forget yourself again." He chastised, keeping a firm hold on the wounded limb.

"I do not forget." The elf replied coldly. "I simply wish for a speedier recovery than my body seems to want to allow."

Strider nearly rolled his eyes, but caught himself, not wishing to anger the temperamental prince. Again. "I do not wish to change your bandages again. Please be more careful."

Though the young Ranger had insisted it would take weeks for the elf's hands to be fully functional again the immortal was insistent upon ignoring his knowledge. He begrudged his need of the human's aide, though he had become slightly easier to deal with over the past days. But Strider knew the ethereal being wanted nothing more than to be free of him.

The elf nodded stiffly and gritted his teeth in anger as Strider helped him climb from the tree.

'Disgraceful.' The prince thought to himself as the human swung easily from the branch he had just, unaided by his hands, half-fallen from.

"Come." Strider said as he walked towards their camp. "Tomorrow we will head to your home."

Legolas scoffed. "What happened to the brave Ranger who was going to storm the camp and make them pay for what they had done?" While he was quite skilled in the healing arts, the elf had to admit, he did not trust the human's skills in battle. The only true fight he had ever seen the young human in he had been surrounded by elven warriors, no doubt surviving only by their aide.

A small memory reminded him that the brash Ranger had only been in the fight to help him. He quickly quelled that as they continued their journey through the forest.

"Oh, I fully intend on making them pay for what they did to you. And those poor creatures they still hold." Strider said as he held back a branch for the elf to pass. "I'm just not going to do it with you."

Legolas stopped in his tracks. "Why not?" He demanded, his eyes narrowing in anger as he turned towards the Ranger. As if the foolish child could actually survive a battle, let alone defeat so many foes, without aide.

"You, my friend, cannot even hold a weapon." Strider said gently, no hint of gloat or contempt in his voice.

"I would survive better than you, even without the use of my hands." Legolas stated angrily, brushing past him and marching through the underbrush. He shoved branches and leaves out of his way as he walked, gritting his teeth against the pain that was shooting up his arms, sending stars to his sight.

"Do not be childish, _nin__ caun." Strider said softly, catching up to him and grabbing his arms once again, stopping him in his tracks. He brought the bandaged hands up to his eyes, ignoring the slight struggle the prince put up. Small twigs and broken leaves were now imbedded in the white cloths and bright blood was seeping through in small dots. **(... ,**** my prince.")**_

Strider sighed and released Legolas' hands then started forward again, gently pushing the elf ahead of him. Though nearly three thousand years older than he, the prince still seemed so young to the Ranger. So vulnerable and scared.

'What honor is there in running from a battle?' That same, soft voice whispered through Legolas' head as he walked ahead of Strider. 'He wishes to disgrace you.'

Legolas shook his head as if to dislodge to voice. Too often in the past days had it entered his head, telling him of the human's treachery or his own weakness. He was beginning to worry that it was more than it seemed. But it did have a point.

"What honor is there in running?" The elf asked as they reached their camp which was nestled into a small clearing in the vast woods. Strider gently pushed on his shoulders and he sat, his pride twisting slightly at the ease in whish he obeyed.

Strider shifted through his travel pack and pulled out his medicine bag, then quickly retrieved a bowl of water from the small stream that cut the clearing in half. "There is more honor to be found by leaving a fight in which you cannot win, than staying in one simply to bolster your own pride." He said as he knelt beside the prince and took up his hands once again. "Especially when other lives are at risk."

Legolas sighed and watched as the Ranger changed his bandages again. "You are wise for your young age." He whispered after a moment, his eyes clouded in shame. The boy spoke true, in spite of how Legolas felt. He could not endanger the others, the innocents in the camp, simply to regain his dignity.

For a long moment Strider said nothing, the barely-there words chasing each other through his head. Perhaps the elf had changed, despite his arrogance. Some years ago the young human would have believed it true that the prince would rather have had his tongue cut out than make such a statement of him. A small beacon of hope flared in him that perhaps he could truly win over this cold prince of the Firstborn.

"How..."

The Ranger had wished desperately these past days to ask Legolas a question he knew the elf would be loathe to answer. A question in which asking might perhaps make him leave for good.

"Ask your question." Legolas said softly as if he had read the young human's mind. He pulled his re-bandaged hands back to his body, staring down at them so as not to meet the dark grey eyes of the youth. "I will not leave. I cannot."

Perhaps he could not leave, Strider knew, but injured or not he did not doubt the elf's power in his anger. He had seen it once and nearly died from the experience. Ah well. His foster father always told him he never used his head, why start now?

"How did they capture you?" He asked in a rush. But he instantly wished he could retrieve the words from the cold air as Legolas' body stiffened and his face turned to a mask of stone. The elf's eyes clouded over with a mixture of anger and sorrow and Strider prepared himself for the tirade he knew was to follow. But it did not come.

"Travel in our lands is still permitted to strangers as long as they stay near our borders." Legolas said slowly, his chest rising with a deep, controlled breath, his anger staying locked behind his eyes. "I was hunting and had set up camp in the clearing you found me in. A group of five travelers came upon the camp; one was a child, no more than ten years of age. They said they were lost, and I offered to show them the way out.

But they said that the child was sick and could travel no more that night, and indeed I believed them, for I could feel too much heat rising from his body and he looked to be on death's door. I offered them shelter in my camp until the child could continue their journey."

Strider raised his eyes at this, turning from the stew he had begun to cook, disbelief on his face. "You showed no such mercy to me when I was a child." He accused, his brow creasing in resentment. How could the prince lead such a double life? Or was it truly he that the Eldar hated and not simply his mortal blood?

"I was not always so cold." The prince whispered, his eyes traveling down to the bandages on his hands, tracing the blood that had seeped through.

But all thought of anger left the Ranger in a rush as he watched the prince. Strider thought again at that moment that the ancient being seemed so impossibly young. His deep eyes filled with sorrow and his shoulders fell in long-past defeat. He seemed to curl into himself, wrapping a shroud of protection around his frail being as the young human watched, amazed at the speed in which this transformation changed the proud, arrogant royal into a frightened child.

"Ages ago my people told my father that I was the most kind-hearted monarch they had known. That my spirit gave them hope in the time of peril that was stealing Greenwood's beauty from us." The prince said, his wounded hands shaking as he continued to stare down at them. "But no longer."

He stood then, graceful as a deer, cold as a new winter's frost, and turned his back on Strider. The human watched silently as the child in him broke away and was quickly replaced with the lordly prince he had trained to be. The elf's body stiffened as he stared out into the dark forest, his head rising in dignity, his shoulders squaring once again. When he turned around his face was that same cold mask the Ranger had known all his young life, all traces of the frightened, wounded soul lost like dry leaves in the wind.

"Once a fire had been made and the child seen too one of the men lit a pipe." The prince said, continuing his story as if nothing had happened. "The smell was sweet, though still offensive for its smoke, but I did not ask him to extinguish it, for I wished to deal with them as little as possible. It filled the clearing and the next thing I remember was being woken from a deep sleep by a blow to my gut."

"There was a drug in the smoke." Strider stated.

"Ai. That is my belief as well." Legolas sat down beside him once again, leaning against the dark trunk of a tree. "They impaled my hands before they left, and said that, should I survive, it would do well to tell my king that they would return for what was theirs. I do not know what that means."

Strider stirred the contents in the pot, contemplating in silence what the men could have meant. He did not even know where these humans came from however, so his guess was as good as any.

"Where is Avarilas?" The Ranger asked after several minutes of silence.

Legolas looked up from his wounded hands and shrugged. "Out looking for me, more than likely." He said. "Much to his chagrin I have taken to... relieving myself of his presence once again. Something I have not done in many centuries. Ever since the incident at Rivendell he has become entirely overbearing. Partly because of my father's wish, and explicit orders, to keep better watch on me, partly because he feels guilty. It was on his watch as well that I was..."

Strider perked up at the prospect of hearing some of the mysterious prince's long past, but he was disappointed when Legolas raised his dark brows and pointed at the fire instead. He looked down to see their dinner boiling over the edge of the time-worn pot.

He let out a particularly nasty elvish curse, which earned him a sardonic smile from the prince's lips, and quickly removed the pot from the fire.

"Supper's ready." He said with a sheepish smile.

***

Sometime later Strider lifted the last spoonful of stew to Legolas' lips, which the prince took reluctantly as he had every other bite. Finished with the difficult task he quickly walked away from the elf and the dark cloud that had settled over him once again. He bent beside the stream and washed clean the two bowls and spoons.

As he straightened, the hair on the back of his neck stiffened and he dropped the dishes, quickly pulling his knife from its sheath, his senses suddenly alert and tingling. Legolas stood behind him and crouched into a fighter's position, a grimace crossing his face as his hands unconsciously clenched.

"Come out from the shadows." Strider demanded, gazing out into the dark forest. "We know you are there."

"And this we knew as well." A low, sinister voice said from the edge of the clearing, just beyond the human's vision. Legolas hissed and stepped towards the hidden figure.

"You are smart, child of the Eldar." The voice said. A dark figure, cloaked in black, stepped into the clearing and pulled a hood from his head, revealing a chiseled face adorned with a wicked smile.

The man was darkly handsome, with black, piercing eyes and raven hair that fell in waves to his shoulders. The very air around him seemed to be pierced with malice as he stared at the two fighters. "But not too smart. I told you to return to your king. Why did you seek out our camp?" It was Strider's turn to gasp.

"Yes, we knew you were there." The dark man said, his eyes never leaving Legolas'. "The poison we placed in your veins calls to us." He said, his voice low and forbidding, directed to the prince's ears. "For it is the same that runs in ours."

Legolas struggled to remain still, calm as this man, emanating darkness from his very core, seemed to steal the light that made his existence. He could feel the vulnerable child, the one he so readily seemed to release these past days, struggle to surface once again. His eyes were locked with those of the wicked man and he felt as if they were tearing his soul away, piece by piece.

"Sleep now, my prince." The dark man whispered. And as the words hit his ears his body obeyed and he was lost to darkness again.

**To Be Continued...**

Another slow chapter, and a cliffhanger... Why do you people put up with me? Eh, at least this one was long.

Until next time!

Adrienne


	5. Pretense

*sighs* Another day another dollar. No wait... *goes back to read disclaimer* Crap, I'm not getting paid for this. Well then why the heck am I doing it? *muses point the author towards the reviews* Oh riiight, I remember. Cuz you guys inspire me! Have I mentioned how much I love you all? Cuz I do.

Oh and, my response to your reviews will now be at the bottom of my posts after my final author's note. Since by some miracle my reviewers have become much more numerous, and I've come to the realization that it is annoying to have to scroll past all that. So reviewers, look for me at the end of the road! *gags* Where the hell did that come from?

**" Leaves of Glass "**

**Chapter 5 - Pretense**

Strider struggled uselessly against the bonds wrapped tightly around his wrists as he was pushed through the dark forest. A half-dozen men, all cloaked in black and bearing longbows, watched him with mild interest. He glared back at them as they herded him on, twisting in a futile attempt to see the limp body of Legolas, being carried behind him by the first man that had come into their clearing.

Moments after Legolas had fallen the others had emerged from the concealing forest, bows trained on him. He had had no choice but to concede to their demands, despite the warnings of his mind. For he knew that he would be of more use to the unconscious prince alive.

Quickly bound, the Ranger had watched as the first man, dark to his very core, knelt beside Legolas and lifted him effortlessly from the leaf-littered ground. The malicious look in his dark eyes had sent chills through Strider's body. What the strangers had in mind for them now he had no idea.

He stumbled as he walked and, encumbered by his bound hands, fell to the ground with a dull thump. He groaned inwardly, wincing at the pain caused by the hard roots that had come into contact with his ribs and cheekbone. The men around him laughed as they watched him struggle to his feet.

Some time later the company re-emerged into the rogues' camp, greeted by cheers from the men left behind.

"Our prize!" The dark man shouted, holding the lifeless body of the prince for all to see. The men cheered again. "Finally, our plans shall begin! Finally our ultimate reward shall be won!" 

'Thanks to you.' He hissed into Strider's ear as he walked past, taking Legolas with him.

But the Ranger had no time for thoughts of regret or sorrow. He was pushed from behind by one of the men and he stumbled forward once again, the man and his friend quickly disappearing from sight into the busy camp. Strider watched his surroundings as the man behind him propelled him forward, taking in every fire, every path between tents, every way of escape.

'Not without the prince.' He promised himself as he passed dark-cloaked men and lifeless slaves. "I will not leave him to these men.' Near the center of the expansive camp his bonds were cut and he was pushed into a run-down tent, tripping once again and falling to his knees on the grass floor as his escort left. He did not try to escape. Now was not the time.

He looked up to see dirty linen that made up the sides of the tent and thin poles that held it aloft in a hazardous angle. There was little furniture in the small enclosure. Just a bed, a stool, and two cabinets; their doors opened to show vials and bowls full of herbs and liquid mixtures. Many days worth of old food and dirty clothes were lying around the room giving it a cluttered feel and a pungent smell. His sharp ears heard footsteps approaching.

He quickly stood and spun around to face the entrance of the tent, wondering what evil could be coming for him now. But what entered brought more amusement to him than fear.

The small, white-haired man entered backwards, carrying a large tray heavily laden with more bowls. He was short in his stooped state, coming no higher than Strider's chest; his ancient body was wrinkled on every inch of exposed skin and his murky eyes squinted at the contents he carried. The tray seemed to pull at his very base, bringing him to the ground, threatening to topple his stick-like figure.

Feeling pity for the shriveled man Strider moved forward and took the tray from him, setting it down on the only available surface, the bed. The old man blinked in the Ranger's general direction and his nostrils flared. Dark robes swirled around his feet, the hem dirty from dragging in the dust. They seemed to hang off his thin bones.

"Do not be kind to me, ranger." He said, turning slowly, his hands grasping in front of him. His searching fingers found the small stool and he pushed the contents to the floor. Strider heard a clang as metal dishes collided with each other. The man sat down and turned once again to face him.

"Do not take pity on me, young sir." He said in an accent Strider recognized but could not place, his voice thin and wispy with age. "I am your enemy here."

Strider held back a laugh. "Forgive me, father, but you seem no more dangerous than the swaddled children I left in my village."

"Ah, but looks can be deceiving." The old man said, holding up one finger to make a point. "I am more dangerous than any warrior you have met in your few years."

'Not so few.' Strider muttered.

The wizened man shook his head as if explaining something simple to a slow child. "Few enough compared to those I have seen. Or you will see before the end, dunadan."

Strider gasped, once gain surprised by the knowledge of these strangers.

The man laughed. "My old ears tell me much, Ranger."

"But my heritage?" Strider asked, unable to keep the skepticism from his voice. "Magic ears you must have to tell that only from my voice."

"You presume much, boy." The man said, lifting one shaky hand, wrinkled and veined and covered in age-spots, to smooth out the front of his stained tunic. "I said my ears tell me much. I did not say who told them. Who else but one of the Dunadain would travel with a prince of the elves, eh?"

Strider said nothing and the man did not go on. After a while the old man's eyes slid closed and his body drooped. Strider wondered if he had fallen asleep as was normal with one so old. He shifted, wondering what he should do. He could leave the old man now. And should he awake the young Ranger knew he could easily overpower him. He wondered briefly why they would leave him, a man in his prime, unguarded with such a fragile creature.

But it would be complete idiocy to simply expect to walk out of the camp. Night or not, he had seen many guards in the camp, and these men did not seem to allow much to pass them by. The young Ranger was beginning to believe that he would be left alone with nothing but his own thoughts through the night. But he was wrong.

"Pretense, my young friend, is your best ally here." Strider jumped at the sound of the rough, strong voice coming from behind him. But when he turned he saw no one but the ancient. His eyes darted around the small enclosure but no other was present.

The old man lifted his head, his murky gaze meeting Strider's. The Ranger took a step back. Suddenly the small form was not so frail, not so weak. The thin shoulders straightened and the back uncurled. His fragile hands stopped shaking to turn strong and sure. His head was held high in confidence. But the eyes no doubt, though grayed and unclear, were the focus of the Ranger's attention. The strength and fire in those eyes frightened him.

Like the prince's transformation from warrior to child, this man turned from an ancient on death's door, to a seasoned warrior.

"Until now you assumed me to be frail." He said, his voice that of a man aged but not yet done with this life. "Old." He continued. "Useless perhaps. You wondered why they would leave you with me unguarded when you could so easily overpower me." Strider started as if the man had read his very thoughts. "But you see only what I wish you to see. As do they."

The old man stood and walked slowly over to the Ranger. Even now he came up no farther than Strider's shoulder, and his body, though strong, was thin and wiry. He pulled two vials from hidden pockets in his large robes.

"This," He said, holding up one clear bottle, it's top sealed with wax the color of newly shed blood. "Will send you into the realm of the dead the moment its fumes reach your nose. This," He held up the other, sealed with wax the color of spring skies. "Would kill you slowly. Should the liquid touch your skin it would penetrate your body and enter your blood system. When it reached your heart in a few hours time it would drop you where you stood and proceed to spread through your entire body, boiling your blood in your veins. A most unpleasant way to die I assure you."

Strider stared at the bottles, their clear liquids slipping from side to side as the man shook them gently in his hands. He did not doubt his words.

"I am no warrior." The man said, moving to the place on the bed where Strider had placed the laden tray. "But I know enough about herbs and natural chemicals to kill a cave troll with one touch to its leathery hide."

He reached out and picked up the farthest bowl. He brought it to his wrinkled face and took a long sniff of its contents. "Wizard's Beard." He said, handing the bowl to Strider. "It gets its name from the long, white flowers that droop to the ground in the summer. The flowers have a lovely smell. Many old mothers put them in their gardens. But what most don't know is that their roots, when ground and stewed in tea are a cure for mild seizures."

Strider stared down at the bowl. Tiny flakes of milky white roots sat in a heap in the bottom. "I did not know that." He said softly.

"I have much to teach you, child." The man said, lifting another bowl and smelling its contents as well. "If you and your friend are to leave this camp alive."

Strider started again. He did not know if he could handle anymore twists or surprises in this adventure he had stumbled into. "Why would you help us?" He asked, setting the bowl down on the stool and watching the man cautiously. "I don't understand."

The man turned to him, his eyes sliding across some distant memory or thought. And he whispered, "I have my reasons."

Then he turned and picked up another bowl. "Yes." He said, his eyes staring down at the contents. "Yes, I have much to teach you."

And so Strider's lessons began.

**To Be Continued...**

Hmm. I have no idea where this story is going. I thought I did. But then whenever I sit down to write a new chapter, all these freaky little plot bunnies start bounding through my head and my story goes running off in a completely different direction. *shrugs* As long as my readers are satisfied, so am I.

Oh, and Wizard's Beard, purely a creation of my imagination.

And one more thing... I promise to all of you who were disappointed (and I know there were many), Legolas will be in the next chapter. Like I said... rampaging plot bunnie...

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my reviewers, who brighten my darkest days -**

**Snuffles2 -** Hmm. Is that why? ... Cool. :)

**LegolasLover2003 -** Aren't I just so mean to the poor thing? *laughs maniacally*

**Estel Elven Enchantress -** Oh my goodness yes! Shock! Much with the shock! The infamous 'warrior braids' have gone! But he looks really good in that crown thingy (whatever you would call it), so it's okay. And may I just say, you are very perceptive. Although, you don't know why yet. :)

**Deana -** Have I mentioned how much I love writing cliffhangers? Cuz I do.

**SilverKnight7 -** I have! I have! I have! And thank you.

**silvertoekee -** I know! Now I have to wait AGAIN for the DVD. But hey, at least that means it's not completely over yet. It's so sad to see the whole thing drawing to a close.

**Starlit Hope -** Ummm... okay.

**Templa Otmena -** Yes. So many twists, so many turns. How I love to torture my boys. And my readers. :)

**Gwyn -** Scared now. *hides behind large green man made out of dead people* Umm... I think there are some angry villagers waiting for you at the door. *runs away*

**morkeleb -** Well thank you very much, and I will.

**Cosmic Castaway -** *rubs shin* Just for that, this time I'm going to make you wait even longer. *ducks flying vegetables* Okay! Okay! I won't, I promise. And what I loved about that scene the most was when Legolas was counting as he was shooting. That was so funny. :)

**Alexis-Greenleaf -** Okay!

**Coolio02 -** I've RotK three times already and am already waiting on edge for my next trip! I love that movie!

**Kylie -** I do try, to be honest. I mean, I'm not a Tolkien purist, I wouldn't object to writing an AU, but for the 'real' stories, I want to get as close to his works as possible because he was a genius and you can't change that.

**AgentSands****-CIA - Is 5? No? Well, I'll keep writing then.**

**crystal-rose15 -** Because I'm evil to the core, baby! *laughs evilly* As for the address, always happy to assist a fellow write. Here you go ... 

**MG87 -** I found out from my friend that Peter Jackson is actually arachnophobic, and he took all the things he hated the most about spiders, everything that really creeped him out, and put them all together to make Shelob. How cruel is that?

**Kit Cloudkicker -** Thank very much.

**cherryfaerie**** - Oh, but I love them so very very much. :) And here is your website (the one with the engish to sindarin dictionary) ... **

**Nikki1 -** I will. Eventually.


	6. History Lessons

I lost 5 hours of my life tonight. My mom told my brother to go to bed and I asked her why and she said because it's one o'clock in the morning. I thought it was 8 p.m.. I still think it is. *shrugs* Oh well.

For all of you who want now, or will want in the future, my reference for the elvish I use you'll have to e-mail me. I cannot get it to come up on this site. Grr. It's frustrating me very much. I apologize to crystal-rose15 and cherryfaerie for the lack of the address in my last post. I didn't realize it didn't show up. If you would like me to e-mail it too you, tell me.

Remember, responses to my reviewers are at the bottom now. And also, there is a... umm... bad note at the bottom. *searches for hiding spot*

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 6 - History Lessons**

Legolas stirred on his soft bed, blinking the clouds of darkness from his eyes. He briefly thought of how tired he was of waking from unconsciousness instead of elven dreams. Then he remembered why he was once again in such a state and he rose from his prisoner's bed, suddenly alert and wary.

He quickly took in his surroundings. A thick material made the walls of the tent, richly dyed in hues of red and blue and purple. Strong poles held the rooftop high, coming to a point at the top where large, handsomely carved lamps bathed the large space in a soft light.

The room was immaculately clean, with every blade of the soft grass covered in thick rugs and dark furs, the writing desk to one side was flawlessly ordered, the padded chair tucked perfectly into place. The bed was made with utmost care, each corner smooth and sharp, pillows abounding in all sizes and colors. Soft, over-stuffed couches in brilliant colors sat randomly around the room.

A tray was set beside the bed on a small table containing a plate of ripe fruits, another of freshly baked bread, steam still rising from its golden brown surface, and a small bowl filled with rich honey. Legolas' mouth watered at the sight, his tongue begging for the taste of fresh bread and fruit, anything but dried travel rations which was all he had tasted in weeks.

But despite the luxury of his surroundings he was a prisoner and sense told him that stopping for a meal was idiocy. But if he was a prisoner... where were his guards?

He searched the tent once more, peering into the unlooked corners of the opulent tent. He froze when his eyes met those of the man that had invaded their camp; eyes dark and emanating with evil. He pulled his wounded hands protectively to his chest, pain still clutching at the fiercely, the pleased look in those dark eyes as they sent the arrow through his flesh filled Legolas' vision.

"Good morning, my prince." A rich, smooth voice, a voice full of malice, said.

The previous morning the foster son of Lord Elrond had uttered the same words when he had emerged from his dreams, and the prince had at last been inclined to offer a genuine, thought tight, smile. Coming from this man they sent chills down his spine.

Legolas' first thought was to question this man's intent with him. Why was he here? What did they want with him? Were they going to hurt him again? But quickly replacing that was a suddenly far more pressing, and rather surprising thought; a thought that left his lips before he could think.

"Where is Estel?" He demanded, his voice drawn in an odd mixture of worry and disgust.

"Your young Ranger friend?" The man asked, still sitting in the shadows of the tent. "You will see him soon enough. Though, I doubt you'll be pleased. Or perhaps you will. You do not seem very fond of the boy."

"I am not fond of any that belong to the race of Man." Legolas spat, glaring at the face he could not see.

"Such anger, child of the Eldar." The man said, his voice dripping with contempt and mockery. "What makes you so cold?"

_"I was not always so cold." Legolas' own words echoed in his head._

"Ah yes, I remember." The man said, finally rising from his chair and stepping into the light. "For it is as much a part of my history as it is your own."

The hood was removed again, and in the bright light of the lamps Legolas took in his first good look at the man's face. Dark hair, tanned skin, a smooth and sharp bone structure. And dark eyes that were suddenly, achingly, familiar. Dark eyes laughing back at him as his own grew wide with memories still so clear and painful.

"My great-great-grandmother was most unpleased to loose her favorite pet." The man said, his full, red lips twisting up into a perverted smile. "Her ghost would be very proud I am sure, of the heir that recaptured what was hers."

Legolas stood rigid, trying desperately to suck in the breath that was caught in his throat. He stared into the eyes that he had feared for so long and cursed himself in every tongue he knew for being such a fool as to not notice before. All hope of escape left him. The Arandant did not let go their prisoners.

"Settle in, my prince." The dark man said, casting a long look at Legolas' stiff form before pushing back the door and leaving the elf. "I have plans for you."

A shadowed figure, watching from a gap in the tent wall, left his hidden peephole before he could see Legolas, the green leaf of Mirkwood, shatter in his gilded prison.

*

"What did he mean?" Strider asked the old man, whose name was Torlin, as he walked back to the disorderly tent. "What did he mean by 'recapturing what was hers'?"

He sat down beside the man, folding his legs beneath him. His head was still reeling with the prince's first words upon waking. Why would the elf care for his safety when his own was obviously in such peril? Surely he would be happy to be rid of him, no matter the circumstances. He seemed to think of the young human as nothing but a burden. Strider shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts and turned towards the old man.

Torlin tossed a few dried leaves into the boiling pot that sat precariously over a tiny fire, tilting on the shoddy spit. "Your friend has not told you?" He asked, his hands reaching out to the tray in front of him, feeling for the next ingredient. He pinched a small amount of leaf from one rough bowl but quickly released it back to its resting place then moved to the next, feeling its contents, bring the powder to his nose, then sprinkling a small amount into the pot and putting the rest back.

Strider watched all this in fascination. "He is not... we are not exactly... friends."

"I see." Torlin said softly, thought Strider wasn't quite sure how he could. To him that just made everything more complicated when looked at by an outsider.

"Then I will not tell you much." And Strider was about to protest. Loudly. He was tired of people telling him that. If they expected the prince to say anything to him about it, they were sorely mistaken. But before he could say anything Torlin went on.

"But I will tell you enough. So that you may understand why this will be so hard for him."

The old man stirred the pot for a moment then turned towards Strider, his milky eyes, nearly blind after so many years on the earth, though still so full of life and valor, met the young Ranger's once again. "Your friend," And Strider did not miss the deliberate mistake, though he had just clearly stated that they were not. "Was once a prisoner of the Arandant. The people who hold you both now."

"Arandant?" Strider said. "Fallen Kings?"

"Yes." Torlin turned back to his pot and stirred it again, then added several more ingredients. "They come from the same race as the Dunedain. The same race as you. But many years ago, years beyond measure, before even the legend of Elendil and his son and the last great War, they left the others of their kind. They were angered by the mixing of Numenorean blood with that of commoners. They felt as if the others were tainting their kingly line. At first they tried to protest the 'sacrilege'. Tried to convince the others of the blasphemy to their race. But when their efforts did not stop they took another path.

The started killing all those with mixed blood. And at first the others turned a blind eye, worried what the outcome of a civil battle would be. But then one time they went too far. They assassinated a member of the royal family. A youngest son; the product of a second marriage. A marriage to a commoner.

So finally they were run out. And they fled to the north, as far from their angry kinsman as they could go. They live now in the wastelands beyond Mirkwood. Always they are ill content. Always seeking more than they deserve."

"And so this woman, she captured the prince and held him prisoner." Strider said, his mind suddenly full of too much new information. He had never heard these legends before.

"The horrors their past queen inflicted on the Eldar prince are still told around campfires and to frightened children at night." He lifted the pot from the fire.

Strider suddenly found himself forgiving anything and everything Legolas had ever done to him. For an elf to be a prisoner, to be taken from the woods he loved, held in such a Valar forsaken place as the wastelands, away from family and friends, away from nature the very core of the elves, then to have to spend all eternity with the memories... the Ranger was surprised that the prince had not lost all sanity long ago.

Suddenly the world didn't seem as grand as he had always thought. Evil, yes. Frightening, most definitely. But always a place of hope. With love and goodness hidden somewhere beneath all, to be there when you needed it most. Now he wasn't so sure.

If the people of his own blood, those he knew to have already destroyed so much by greed and weakness, could harm the prince, turn him into the icy shell of what he used to be, then surely that, with everything else was in him as well. No wonder Legolas was so hateful towards men. Their most noble race had stripped away all essence of grace and beauty from him.

In that moment Strider vowed to do all he could to pay the penance owed this most strong and gallant of creatures.

"Here." The old man said, knocking him from his reverie and handing him the steaming pot. "Take this inside."

"What is it?" Strider asked, grateful to have any form of distraction.

"A concoction for his Majesty, the king of the Arandant. The one that holds your prince. It is no more than an easement for pain."

"You said you had things to teach me." Strider reminded him, placing the pot on one of the cabinets. He had to push aside two dirty shirts and three dried and brittle apple cores to make room.

"I do." The man said. He started spooning the thick liquid into another clear jar. "The things I must teach you will take time. And must be done in secrecy."

"Do you not worry then, of people hearing you talk to me of them?"

"No one bothers with me unless I have something they need." Torlin sealed the jar with purple wax. "We will speak when it is clear."

"When is that?" Strider asked. Torlin did not reply.

Several minutes passed in silence, then a man came into the tent without so much as a warning. "Where is-" Torlin handed him the jar, cutting off his question. He left as quickly as he could.

"Now." Torlin said after the other man's footsteps had faded from earshot. It took the young Ranger a moment to realize what he meant.

"What am I to learn?" He asked, sitting down on the mussed bed as the old man did the same.

"Did you see the slaves as you entered the camp?" He asked. He pulled a bottle from another hidden pocket in his dark robes.

"Yes."

"You are to learn to be as they." He handed Strider the bottle. Inside was a gray liquid, thick, sticking to the sides as it sloshed back and forth. "That is a poison. Made from several different herbs of which you do not know. They grow only in the farthest plains of the Waste. They are nearly impossible to collect. That poison is given to the slaves of the Arandant. It keeps them docile."

"You mean lifeless." Strider fumed, images of dull eyes and mechanical movements, bodies without spirits, filled his head. To live such a life... he could not imagine.

"Yes. You are correct." Torlin conceded, his murky eyes locked on the bottle. "It takes their freewill. Makes it so that no thought enters their minds save what their masters give them. It is also made from the blood of the Arandant. It's what binds it's victims to them."

"The king," Strider nearly choked on the word. "He gave it to Legolas. He didn't become that way."

"It affects the Eldar differently. I will not tell you how for you must concentrate." He reached out one wrinkled hand and took the bottle back. "I was to give it to you when you came to me. When the scouts returned with word that they had captured the prince, and a young Ranger with him, I requested you as my own slave. If you care to notice I am getting on in years and am getting quite frail. I require much assistance with my tasks these days."

Strider stared at him in confusion, then grinned when Torlin winked at him. "They agreed because you were simply a strong body they found with their prize and had no real use for you beyond slavery. If they find out I did not give you the poison they would have you killed and me put in shackles and under guard for the remainder of my life."

"So I must learn pretense." Strider said softly.

"Yes." Torlin pulled another vile from his pocket. Strider wondered just how many pockets he had.

This new one was a beautiful color. As it swirled in the light it sent rainbows on the tent walls. It seemed to shift from green to blue to purple, then on to a thousand more.

"And you must also learn of this." Torlin said quietly. He slipped it quickly back into his robes, his eyes darted around the small enclosure as if now he fear listening ears. "It is called Aberthain. And no one knows of its existence but you and me."

"What is it?" Strider asked, nervous as well.

"The only poison that can kill the Arandant."

*

As Strider's lessons went on, half a camp away a desolate creature sat in an extravagant tent with a thousand thoughts of death running through his head.

For death was far better than what he faced now. Death was better than the pain that would come. Better than the torture. Better than the dignity they would strip and the pride they would destroy. Better than loosing what he had labored so long and so hard to gain back.

Death was better.

His vision swam in darkness and all sense of good and light and happiness drained from him like blood from a fatal wound. He clutched his wounded hands to himself and begged the Valar not to let this happen again. He begged them to take his soul, so that it would not suffer such terror again.

But they did not listen, and he was left in his golden cage.

**To Be Continued...**

So you get a little glimpse into our dear prince's sordid past, but no more I tell you! No more! Well, maybe more if my plot bunnies and muses don't cooperate.

And okay, is this as boring to the rest of you as I think it is? I mean, I like the story and what not, but it just seems so boring. Am I wrong? I hope I am, because I don't know how to make it... not boring. And for my bad note - 

There will be no update next week. *hides behind muses as they dodge flying vegetables and a knife from Cosmic Castaway*

I'm going to my sisters for a week, and will not have access to a computer because she's poor and doesn't have one. So... yeah. No update. *runs away* I'm sorry!! I'll make the next chapter extra super long*!!

Until next time!

Adrienne

*no promises made by the author are under any form of contract and therefore mean nothing.

**To my most lovely and gracious reviews (who I pray will not kill me in my sleep)**** -**

**SilverKnight7 - Umm, yeah. You may not want to get your hopes up with another 'update soon!' review. Not happening. Sorry.**

**silvertoekee**** - Action? Action? I promised no action. I just said he'd be there. *goes back and checks* Yup, I was right. No promise of action.**

**Estel Elven Enchantress - Oh yay. Someone who will chase the plot bunnies away. But wait... I need those. Never mind. **

**Gwyn**** -** Very good idea, but alas, no. I actually toyed with it for quite some time, but in the end I had to assuage the idea. At this point in time (and I'm not being all 'tolkien purist' or anything, this isn't the reason for tossing the idea, it's just a little tidbit) Aragorn had already know Gandalf for about 4 years. *shrugs* Really, it was a great idea though.

**MG87 - My plot bunnies have been thoroughly punished for that horrendous blunder.**

**Deana - Yeah, I figured they needed a break.**

**Twinlakeshgrl**** - All 17 chapters? At once? Holy crap. You're brave. And yes, I have read them, they are all on my favorite author's list. And if they are not they should be. As for Legolas' past, I gave you a little bit of detail, but you won't get the whole story until the prequel. Sorry. And for Legolas and Aragorn being friends... we'll just have to wait and see now won't we.**

**Templa**** Otmena -** Timely? Whoops. Guess I killed that thought huh? But I promise I'll be back on the 18. If not sooner. *looks innocent* As for the tension of not knowing, I feel you. I really wish I knew what was going on. *shrugs*

**Cosmic Castaway - *runs away screaming* Please don't kill me for the late update-to-come! *is scared now***

**Kit Cloudkicker - Nope. He's my very own OC. Do you like him?**

**Moon Elf - Ooh, pixie stix. My favorite! I think I'll keep you around. Uh-huh. And oh, by the way, I've seen RotK 3 count 'em 3 times! And waiting for the next. Yeah baby!**

**Nikki1 - Not quite that creative, sorry. I hold to the fact that he learned most of it from his father. What he's learning from the old man is more of a... destructive, yeah, destructive type of herb lore.**

**Destiny Lot - Well thank you very much. I appreciate that.**

**Elanor8 - Well, that's what I'm going for and I hope I do not disappoint. **

**Angel Spirit - *hands you chicken soup* I hope you're all better now. Colds are the worst. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.**


	7. Life Lines

I'm terribly sorry, but as it is already very late and I must get up very early, I will not be responding to all of your lovely reviews. Anyone who asked me a question in their review, I will answer your questions at the end of the post.

I would like to say before I go though, that I appreciate you all dearly and that you brighten up my life with your support. I will not be making a habit of this, I promise.

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 7 - Life-Lines**

Legolas sat silently outside the open door of the tent, his head back, watching the stars as they appeared one-by-one in the blackening sky. Ereandil shone brightest of all and the elven prince watched its slow track across the sky as the hours passed. With so much beauty in such a simple thing his heart was gladdened. But he sent no prayer to the Valar this night. They did not watch over their wayward child.

Two men, cloaked in black, stood on either side of him. He had found them lying lazily in front of his doorway when he had emerged to watch the sun's descent over the distant mountains. And for hours now they had stood stiff, tense at attention, their weapons clasped in white-knuckled hands. They dared not risk their king finding them so inattentive to the brooding prince.

Legolas allowed a languid smile to spread over his dark lips. He would play their games.

In the dark of night he held such confidence as had eluded him during the daylight hours. Elves were far more powerful than Men at night.

But he held no delusions of escape. No. As he sat on the crushed grass, watching the stars in their ethereal dance one small thought was scratching at his mind like a wounded fox caught in a trap. But this fox he would not let escape. He would not let it consume him. Not yet.

Pain and death seemed so far from this place.

Legolas stood, another smile turning his mouth as his guards turned in time to meet him, barring his way of escape. He saluted them with a mocking smirk and turned gracefully on his heal, back into the tent. He knew well his boundaries and would not cross them.

Once inside the tent he sat again on the thickly covered bed and stared down at his hands. Blood was seeping from the wounds again, staining the dirty wrappings with his dark life-force. He thought of Strider then, wondering what had befallen the Ranger. Wondering if he was alright.

The dark man had said he would not be pleased once he finally saw his... whatever they had become.

He refused to allow the word 'friend' to enter his mind. An oath sworn to himself long ago would not allow it. And yet... he did not despise the boy as he once did. He had saved his life in the woods, knowing what a danger it could have been, and had aided Elrond in healing him when he was helpless in his grief.

But the child was still human, despite his good qualities. That alone would take an act beyond measure to redeem him in the prince's eyes. He could hear muted whispers outside the thick cloth of the tent and the fox scratched at its trap. His body froze and his eyes slid warily to the slowly opening door. His heart beat faster than the wings of a bird and his breath shortened.

Strider walked through the open flap carrying a tray heavily laden with food. Legolas breathed again.

"It seems you have more freedom than I." The prince said bitterly as Strider placed the tray on the table beside the bed.

Legolas expected a harsh reply, or at the very least an explanation. But the lean young body turned mechanically and the once bright and cunning eyes were dull. Lifeless. The Ranger stood silently, his vacant stare penetrating the thick air between them. He made no movement beyond the act of taking air into his lungs. His eyes, great gray eyes that shone sliver in the lamplight, did not blink.

"Are you happy with what you see, my prince?" Asked the voice that ran Legolas' blood cold. He spun around to meet the eyes of his darkest nightmares.

"What have you done to him?" He asked, pulling his gaze away from those deathly dark eyes. He turned to look at Strider once more, but he did not turn his back to the man. The young human stood still as stone, eyes lost, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. He nearly looked dead in his pallid state.

"He was given the same poison I gave you. It affects the race of Men a little differently." The dark man explained. He entered the tent completely, a dark gloved hand pulling the curtain shut behind him. Slowly he walked across the room, circling the elf who kept his eyes on the floor at his feet. He would not panic, he demanded of himself. He would not be so weak.

'But you are weak.' The feather-soft voice sounded through his head. And Legolas thought for a moment that perhaps it was the man who entered his head and toyed with his thoughts. Who knows what dark magic he may possess? But the voice was unfamiliar; not the dark, evil-laced voice of the man that sat on the desk, staring at him with burning eyes.

Legolas said nothing, waiting for the dark man to make the first move, the first mistake. The prince would bide his time. He had all of eternity. He could spare a few minutes, or days, or more on this man's games. The fox scratched. The voice laughed.

'In his hands, you have no time.'

"The poison I gave you has a rather interesting effect, does it not?" The man asked, from his perch on the desk.

Legolas suppressed the smile that threatened to come. An impatient man was a foolish man. "I know not what you speak of." The elf said lazily, his eyes wandering over to Strider's still form, looking him up and down, mild interest written across his porcelain face.

"Sit down." The man said, his voice laced with a command. And before he realized what he was doing the prince was sitting on the bed, his bandaged hands cradled in his lap. His eyes widened in surprise. He looked down to the floor and saw that Strider had sat as well, folding his legs beneath himself where he had stood. His eyes stared at nothing still.

"Pathetic." The dark man muttered, his eyes also on the young human. "As one of the Dunedain his mind should be stronger. The command was not even directed at him."

"Indeed, that is an interesting effect." Legolas said, straining to keep his voice steady, cool. There had been no such poison when last he had been a prisoner of the Arandant. "And what, may I ask, will this do for you? Beyond commanding me like a beast I see no gain in this." The fox scratched frantically.

"Then I am afraid you are not as smart as I first believed you to be. How sad." The man stood and crossed the room in several long strides. "You." He said, looking down his straight nose at Strider. "Leave this place. Go back to your master." The man walked around him, his presence of no more use to him and therefore unnoticeable, and picked up the bottle of thick red wine from the tray behind him.

The Ranger stood slowly, stiffly. Legolas watched him with sympathy. Poor wretch. But as the young human walked past the elf's place on the bed he turned his head ever so slightly and winked at the prince.

Nearly 3000 years of training kept Legolas from acknowledging the gesture in anyway. Most assuredly not with the utter surprise and hope he felt suddenly swell within him.

'Dunadan indeed.' Legolas thought. 'But why had he not told me of his heritage before?'

'Why would he trust you?' The voice coursed through his mind. 'You tried to kill him.'

"You speak in riddles, sir." Legolas said indolently, ignoring the voice much as he had done the past few days. "That bores me. I am no _perianath; I care not for children's games. Tell me your plans. I can do nothing to stop them." **(... hobbit;)**_

"My plans, dear prince?" The dark man asked, offering Legolas a clear goblet filled with red wine. The elf raised one slender eyebrow in disbelief. I will take nothing from you, it said. The man shrugged and drank from the glass himself. "My plans, are to have you, under my control of course, assume your father's throne. But for that your father, and his heir, your brother, will have to be dead. And who better to commit the act than the son and brother they love and trust?"

Legolas scoffed. "You think me so simple?" He asked, standing from the bed and pacing the room, his steps falling heavy but silent on the thick furs. "I would end my own life before I would harm my family."

"Yes. An interesting little skill you elves have. To be able to cut short your own immortal lives, simply by sheer will." He set the goblet down on the table and advanced on the prince. Before Legolas could stop him the dark man's hand was around his throat, his thumb pressing down dangerously on his windpipe. One simple push and he would crush it.

"But I am afraid that is no longer an option for you, my prince. For your life is no longer your own." He reached down with his free hand and pulled one of Legolas' bandaged hands to his chest. Legolas immediately felt the strong steady beat of the man's heart beneath his wounded palm.

Leaving the prince's hand where it was he reached for the other and placed it over Legolas' own heart. A moment passed, then Legolas' gasped and jerked away from him, pulling his hands back to his body, struggling in his tight hold. The man laughed, a dark, vicious laugh, that chilled Legolas' heart.

"You see, my prince." He said slowly, his voice placed with poisoned honey. "Our hearts beat as one. Your life is mine. For your blood has been mixed with mine and now you obey no one but me. Not even your own mind." He released Legolas' throat, tossing the stunned elf back onto the soft bed. The prince stared at the man with wide blue eyes, reflective pools of misery and fear, shining in the colors of the ocean.

The man sneered. "Our lives are linked now, for as long as you live. And as long as you live, I live. With this link I reap the benefits of your immortal life. But alas, everything has its price. For now that our life-lines are shared so is everything else. Happiness. Sadness. Joy. And pain."

The fox erupted from its trap like the fiery bursts of Mount Doom, releasing years of pain and fear of these twisted people into his frightened mind.

The man held his tanned hands up to where Legolas could see them, then he brutally dug his fingernails into the soft flesh of his palms. 

Legolas screamed as waves of pain erupted from his hands again, his healing wounds opening once more as if new arrows made of heated steal had pierced the tender flesh. The man did not flinch. He dug his fingers in farther, twisting and scraping his nails across the skin. Legolas writhed in agony on the soft furs of the bed, his body starting to shake as his mind tried to pull him away from the pain.

But he could not go. He could not escape. The man would not let him.

After what seemed an eternity the pain started to reside, leaving the prince shaking, a rare sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. Blood had seeped through the bandages and was running down his arms once more, staining the bed and his tunic. But no tears left his proud eyes. That oath too, he would not break.

"Enjoy your night, my prince. For soon you have plans to fulfill."

Legolas finally passed into unconsciousness as he left the tent.

**To Be Continued...**

Well, that was an interesting twist. I didn't see that one coming. You know, this is really starting to frustrate me. Not knowing what's going on in my own story. For some reason this stupid story is coming to me one chapter at a time, and only one chapter at a time. I have no idea where this is headed. I don't even know what's going to happen in the next chapter. *sighs* I'm not liking this. Not at all.

Until next time!

Adrienne

**silvertoekee**** - That is an interesting point, but the answer is no. The poison was put into their blood after the 'bad' Numenoreans left the 'good' Numenoreans. So Aragorn would be infected as any other Man. Perhaps I should explain that in the story somewhere. I'll have to figure out how. Maybe another history lesson.**

**Twinlakeshglr**** - I have no clue. And no, alas I do not. I have no more written than what you see now. Normally I try to stay at least 2 chapters ahead of what I'm posting, but that has not happened with this story so far. Grr.**

**Cosmic Castaway - Well, the whole 'golden cage' thing was really just a metaphor. And he's not leaving for several reasons. One, fear. Two, he's injured and cannot fight. Three, he has no weapons. And four, he's guarded as you now see.**

**Nikki1 - It has actually been my intention from the start to write a separate story about Legolas' past. It will be the next one I post.**


	8. Nightly Rendezvous

I am sooo sorry! So very very sorry for the late update. I went to a friend's birthday party last night and ended up spending the night unexpectedly. I apologize greatly. *gets down on knees* Please forgive me!!

**" Leaves of Glass "**

**Chapter 8 - Nightly Rendezvous **

Strider sat silently in the tent he now shared with Torlin, the potion maker. He watched with glowering eyes as the old man created their supper in a pot. But the man seemed to be paying no heed to his angry glare.

"You knew." The Ranger finally blurted out, no longer able to sit in the silence, swiftly rising from the stool. "You knew what it would do to him. You knew about the connection." Legolas' screams still echoed in his ears, reverberating off his scull, each echo demanding an answer, an action, penance for their existence.

"Yes." Torlin said, his back still turned to the young man.

"And the king's plans... did you know of those as well?" Strider started pacing, his booted feet kicking away piles of clothes and empty glass vials.

"Yes." The old man said again, his head turning slightly, his eyes watching the Ranger's angry pace across the floor. "But what would you have me do, boy? Charge in there sword drawn and demand his release?"

Strider stopped his frenzied walk, the man's truthful words quieting the echo. "You have the poison." He said, turning towards his mentor, his gray eyes imploring. "You could have killed them long ago. You could have ended all this, before we..." His words trailed off, his eyes falling to the ground.

Torlin shook his head, stirring the bland contents in the pot. "The poison is not yet finished."

Strider sat back down, the breath leaving his body in a heavy sigh. Brash, Elladan called him. Human, he called himself. No elf would be so impetuous. "Why not?" He asked quietly, his eyes tracing the patterns of the bent grass at his feet.

"There is one ingredient missing. As it is now, it would kill the Arandant. But with their deaths would come those of the slaves as well. There is a connection between them and their master's also, though is does not work the same as that between you prince and the king. The missing ingredient will sever the connection before it kills the evil ones."

Yes. He thought. 'Brash' fit him perfectly. "What is the ingredient? How can we complete the poison?"

The old man found two bowls beneath the debris on the cabinet, inspecting them before ladling the stew from the pot into them. He handed one to Strider along with a spoon, then sat on the disordered bed. "The last ingredient," He said through a mouthful of the stew. "Is by far the most difficult to obtain. I have been trying ever since I discovered the poison, almost 8 years ago."

"What could possibly be that complicated to acquire?" Strider asked, stirring the stew in his bowl, his stomach angrily informing him that he did not want to eat. His hands seemed to ache for no apparent reason.

Torlin looked up from his stew, the same dark look in his eyes that always meant something bad. "The last ingredient is blood... from the king."

*

The young Ranger walked sedately through the camp of the Arandant, his eyes blank, his body moving as if controlled by a puppeteer. He passed many other slaves, each acting the same as he, though for them it was no act. Cloaked figures were everywhere, watching the slaves, talking amongst themselves. Strider watched silently as a young woman was led mechanically through a tent doorway, being led like a dog on a leash. A shudder ran up the Ranger's spine and he quickly turned away.

As he walked he thought. But for each thought came a curse, for each was as useless as the last. He discarded a thousand ideas, a thousand plans, a thousand ways to end the suffering of these people. How was he supposed to get blood from the king? He was a king!

So Strider walked aimlessly through the camp, no one paying him heed as he mulled over ways to destroy their way of life. He laughed bitterly to himself as he walked, wondering why great adventures never seemed to work out the way they were supposed to.

Who would have thought that he, foster son of Elrond Half-elven, captain of the Dunedain, supposed heir to the throne of Gondor, would have ended up no more than a slave to his own people.

He thought of all the people who had protected him through his life. His father, brother's, his nanny Ilithien before her death and his mother long ago before hers. And for the first time in his short years he truly felt like he had grown up. For there was no one to help him now.

True, Torlin was there, but only as a guide. The old man had made it very clear that it was up to him to finish this task. Up to him to rescue his friend and the other slaves. He didn't know if he was ready for this.

'But you have no choice.' He reminded himself.

Rowdy laughter filled his ears as he walked past a campfire. He heard the insults of drunken men. He didn't duck the clod of dirt that burst on his shoulder and forced the heat from his face as he continued the slow walk through the camp. More laughter followed him as he went.

Hours later, or perhaps minutes, Strider couldn't tell which, nor did he care, he came across the same brightly colored tent he had entered earlier that day. The two sentries were still placed at the front entrance, but they set idly, watching the fire in front of them. They paid no heed to him as he walked past.

He walked down several tent lengths then took a sharp turn, then another until he was going back the way he had just came. He walked silently, slowly by the backs of the tents until he reached the one that had become the prince's prison. He looked quickly around, searching the shadows of the nearby tents. But he saw nothing, so he knelt beside the tent and lifted the heavy material from the crushed grass until there was an opening large enough for him to crawl through.

Inside the tent was dark, the lamps had been turned out and no moonlight could make its way through the thick roof. Strider blinked several times, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then he quickly crawled over to the bed where a still figure lay.

One of the prince's hands hung over the side of the bed, the pale skin glowing with the elf's natural luminance. Dark, dried blood covered the dirty bandage and trailed down his long fingers, leading to a stain in the rug beneath. Strider gently picked up the wounded hand, cradling it in his palm as he stood, then sat on the bed.

He looked down at the elf's face, the light of his skin betraying his closed eyes. The Ranger reached out with his free hand and gently smoothed away the crease of worry from between his dark eyebrows. Legolas shifted beneath his touch, a grimace pulling down the corners of his dark lips. Tears stung Strider's eyes at the pain and fear that radiated from the thin body.

The man gently placed the elf's wounded hand on the soft furs that covered the bed, then stood quietly and crossed the room to the chest that sat beside the large wooden desk. Inside he found clean shirts; these he tore into strips to use for new bandages. Beside the bed was a pitcher of clean water.

For the next half hour he carefully cleaned the blood from the newly opened wounds and rebound the injured hands. He poured the rest of the water into an elaborately carved wooden cup and tipped a small amount into the elf's mouth.

Legolas woke when he swallowed the cool liquid, but his eyes were glazed and Strider wondered if he really knew where he was. The elf's tongue snaked out and licked his dry lips, his wide blue eyes watching the Ranger cautiously. Strider smiled softly and placed the cup back at his lips; Legolas drank voraciously. Once the cup was empty he lay back on the pillows, breathing heavily, his eyes gazing at the ceiling; but Strider knew they saw something else. He had seen the look many times before in the elf's eyes.

When the Ranger reached for the platter of fruit the elf's eyes focused on him once again, their deep blue depths holding a look of distrust. Strider wondered at this for a moment, worrying that he had done something wrong, but when Legolas' eyes turned toward the plate he realized that, for once, it was not he the elf was wary of.

Strider looked down at the wilting fruit curiously. It seemed well enough, the only problem was the discoloration caused by sitting in the heat for too long. He shrugged, an impish grin stretching his mouth, and winked at the elf before taking a bite of one of the strawberries.

He made a show of tasting the fruit, chewing it carefully, rolling it around on his tongue. After a minute he smiled and picked up another, then held it to the elf's lips. Legolas, who had watched the scene with a small smirk of his own, scowled and pursed his lips together, his eyes glinting with something the young Ranger had never seen in them before. Not from you, they said.

Strider shrugged again and moved as if to leave, but a small sound of protest, that was not quite a whine, turned him back. He raised one eyebrow at the prince, a smirk pulling at his lips. Legolas glared at him for several moments, then stuck his tongue out at the Ranger.

Strider's smile widened and it took some effort for him to keep the laughter at bay. When he finally brought the strawberry back to Legolas' mouth the prince took a bite, his eyes dancing.

Strider stayed until most of the fruit, along with the bread and honey, had been consumed by the prince, with a few 'test bites' going to the human who was rather tired of travel rations himself. Before he left he helped Legolas sit and rebraided his unkempt hair, an issue of pride he knew the prince held, using a comb he found in the chest to untangle the messy locks before weaving them carefully back into the warriors braids.

As he was lifting the tent-back to leave Legolas smiled in thanks then closed his eyes to escape to the realm of elven dreams. Strider smiled in turn and silently promised to be back the next night.

*

When Legolas woke the next morning his mind was hazy, memories of pain and a horrible truth echoing through his consciousness and glimpses of a pleasant dream tried to fight to be remembered. He saw the stains of blood on the bed-furs and a shudder ran up his spine.

But when he saw the half eaten fruit on the bedside table the distant dream became a reality and he smiled.

**To Be Continued...**

Well... that was an interesting little piece of fluff. Wonder where the hell that came from. Anywhoo, hope you enjoyed it despite the sappiness of it all.

And just to let everyone know, Viggo Mortensen had a photo exhibit in LA, which is right on the way to my sister's house, whom I will be visiting soon. And I was so excited when I heard and I was already planning how I could make a stop to see it. But no! It was up and then gone already by the time I heard about it. I was so upset. I am DYING to go to one of his exhibits. He is SO TALENTED!! Uhg! And it's already gone. Why would you have a 3 day show? Why? What's the point in that? He needs to do one in Seattle. Seriously. I'd empty my bank account just to go see it. Whether or not he was there. I'm so mad!

Until next time!

Adrienne

**silvertoekee - Ah, but that kind of trouble is so much fun. At least when it's inflicted upon our favorite elf and Ranger. *grins evilly* And thank you for the encouragement. I'm glad it's still turning out well despite the... issues, it's having.**

**Deana - Well thank you very much.**

**Emiri-chan - Well goodness. Obviously I've made someone happy. Wow. I haven't had a review that enthusiastic in a while. And I am always up for new LotR stories (especially when it has to do with elf-torture, because you're right, it's an art) so write away my dear. I'm always glad to encourage new author's as well. The more the merrier I always say! And thank you so much for counting me one of your favorites. And comparing me to Cassia... that's a complimant to end all compliments. Than you!**

**Templa Otmena - Ew, english. Gross. I'm sorry this is late too. I hope I didn't bum you out by not giving you your reward. And thank you for the reassurance. I keep convincing myself this story is bad because it's coming out so weird. lol. As they say... you are your own worst critic. And with me, that's very very true! Hope you did well on your exam!**

**LegolasLover2003 - I do that too! I have a great idea for the ending, then I have to write all this crap just to get there! That's how most of the ideas for my stories start. They have a beginning and an end, but no middle! And I'm sorry about our dear elf's poor hands. I just keep torturing you with that don't I? I promise they'll get better eventually. And with your little prediction of the future... stop that! You're not allowed to know any of that yet! *grins***

**Estel Elven Enchantress - Thank you very much. After my little self-pity fest I've gotten a lot of people telling me that I'm doing good despite the uncharacteristic writing style, so I feel better now. *grins***

**Kit Cloudkicker - Forgetting you?!?! *gasp* Never! How have I forgotten you? I'm so sorry! Tell me what I did and I'll make it better I promise! And as why the evil man wants Mirkwood. I think I know that part. lol. I'm not sure yet. But maybe...**

**SilverKnight7 - Thank you!**

**MG87 - I was half expecting to come home today to an angry e-mail from you. I was frightened. *wipes sweat from forehead* lol. And yes... my muses. I'm not very happy with them right now. *shouts of 'help us' are heard from the background* Shut up you! *smiles sweetly***

**Allyrien Chantel de Montreve - Yes, yes he does.**

**FrodoBaggins87 - Yeah, I suppose it is. But I'm not really one for the fluffy stuff. Despite the gooey mush you just experienced in this chapter. It won't happen again, I assure you.**

**cherryfaerie - lol. Sorry I confused you there. I wanted it to be all dramatic though. *grins* And what story is this that you are talking about? I'm sorry, I'm a spacecadet 99% of the time and right now my brain is giving me nothing. Could you please explain?**

**the proud canadian - Thank you, I'm glad.**

**Gwyn - You know... you come up with the best ideas. lol.**

**Kitsune - Kay.**

**Cosmic Castaway - You know... you scare me sometimes. :)**

**BashirXena - Well, because he can't read Legolas' thoughts. The connection is more of a physical one. So unless Aragorn had touched him or something, he's still in the dark.**

**Ellenillor - lol. That's cool, chica. I was kinda wondering what happened to you. You were so constant about reviewing the last one then just... poof. Nada. I hope you enjoy it when you get to it. And by the way, your review made me laugh. Thanks. lol.**


	9. Convenience

So, all week long, I've got nothing. No plot bunnies, no inspiration from my recently useless muses. Nothing. Then Sunday rolls around and suddenly I'm stuck. Bugger. I don't know what to do. If I don't write something and write something now I'm not going to be able to update tonight and I'll disappoint all my beloved readers.

So I sit down and I'm begging my head... write something. Anything. I don't care, just do it. But I get nothing.

And then... then someone dear to me does something to get me royally pissed off. Like... incredibly, murderously pissed off. And this chapter is the result.

It adds nothing to the story. It furthers no plot lines. It's a filler, and I hate fillers. But this is what I have, so this is what you get. Enjoy.

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 9 - Convenience**

Avarilas stared at the stone beneath his feet, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his shoulders wilted with exhaustion and a deep sense of utter failure. Booted feet paced back and forth in front of him, their steps hard, angry.

"I entrusted you with his well being." A deep, livid voice reached his ears. "Nearly 3000 years you have been his bodyguard. His only source of protection. And now he is lost to me. Again."

Tears came quickly and unbidden to the Silvan's eyes. He tried to blink them away, begging his betraying body to not let him cry in front of his king. But two silent tears fell anyway, trailing down his strong face, leaving silver lines in their path.

He had let his prince down again.

His long fingers twisted the broken arrow shaft in his hands, threatening to break the thin wood. He could still hear the angry cries of the trees as he had asked them tell him what had happened in that bloodied clearing. He could hear the wretched outrage of the agony that his prince had suffered at the hands of 'evil'. The trees would tell him no more than that he was gone. Gone.

There was so much blood.

Avarilas was pulled from his thoughts by strong arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a warm embrace.

"_Díheno__ nin, nin ion." King Thranduil said softly, hugging him closely. "__Istos sen naegro le sui daer sui Im." **("Forgive me, my son." "I know this pains you as much as I.")**_

"I'll find him." Avarilas promised into the king's shoulder. And he would keep his promise. He would find his prince. Or die trying.

*

The man that held Legolas prisoner burst through the front of the tent unannounced. He turned on the elf the moment he entered, his eyes blazing, his hands clenched into fists.

"Well, you don't look happy to see me." Legolas said cheekily from his place on the fur-lined bed.

The nightly forays with Strider over the past weeks had done a lot to keep his spirit from crumbling like it had wished the first night he was in the camp. And that had caused him to be significantly more... cocky, than common sense demanded. He was grinning at the man now, sitting cross-legged on the high bed, paper and charcoal in his hands.

Without warning the dark man's fist flew up, connecting with Legolas' elegant cheekbone. The elf was knocked backwards, stunned by the blow, the drawing tools flying from his hands. Before he could react he felt a large hand grip his hair at the back of his skull, pulling upwards and dragging him from the bed. The nerves on his scalp began to scream as he was drug across the floor to the post that held up the center of the tent.

As the pain in his cheek faded and reality slowly crept back into his bewildered mind he began to struggle, all of his countless years of training escaping his head as he twisted and pulled and kicked, panic quickly replacing all sense of arrogance. But the rage in the dark man's body was nearly a visible force, the hand in his hair unwavering, and he soon felt his back connect with the hard post. The breath left his lungs painfully as his newly healed hands were forced above his head and tied to the wooden beam.

He tried to struggle, tried to break the bonds, tried to fight the man and the fear that consumed him. But all he was rewarded with was a harsh blow to the stomach that would have brought him to his knees if he hadn't been held up by the stiff leather bonds. He gasped for breath as his burning lungs begged for air, his eyes glazing over in pain, his body screaming.

Another strike connected with his face and he immediately tasted warm copper in his mouth. A blow landed with an impossible amount of strength on his ribcage and a sharp crack filled his ringing ears. A muffled cry escaped his mouth, blood spraying from his split lips, scattering the man's dark cloak with crimson and leaving hideous red stains on his own porcelain skin.

The man in front of him did not even flinch when the warm liquid hit him, nor did he pause. Rage, terrifying in its burning intensity, poured from his body, washing through the tent, coating Legolas in its thick scent. The elf gagged on his own blood, his arms jerking at the cords that bound him, the rough leather chafing at his pale skin.

Another blow landed on his throbbing cheekbone and he heard another crack. He screamed aloud as the delicate bones shattered under impossible strength. Sickness overwhelmed him as tiny shards of bone tore the tissue of his face and he felt the familiar darkness; and the painful pull of the dark man, keeping him conscious for every agonizing moment.

Another punch connected with his ribs, another crack filled his ears. His knees buckled as the pain washed through him like a river released from its dam. His body fell, leaving nothing but the tight bonds to keep him up, his arms wrenching his ribs, pulling another scream from his lips.

Tears filled his eyes as the pain wrapped his body in a tight hold. He could hardly think, hardly move. He could do nothing to stop the rain of punches that broke him under their unnatural force. But he would not let the tears fall from his eyes. He would die, he swore to the Valar he would die, before he let this man see him cry.

Harsh blows, more forceful and painful as each fell, rained down on the elf's helpless body, breaking, destroying; tanned knuckles bruised with the force.

And throughout the camp the pain-filled cries of the prince of Mirkwood echoed through each tent, wrapped around each living being, broke through the new dawn light like a creature emerged from nightmares. Some of the men shudder in their beds, images too horrible to imagine coursing through their minds, knowing that the screams would last far too long for any mortal man to endure.

One man sat in tormented silence, tears lining his young face as he watched the sun rise on another hopeless day.

*

Legolas' body shook with unbearable pain as an ancient man looked over his broken form. He lay on his bed, blood seeping into the furs from innumerable places on his body. A muffled cry escaped his mouth and he quickly bit his lip, tasting more blood as the old man gently probed his broken ribs. His swollen eyes stared at the lit ceiling of the tent.

"It will take some weeks more before you can carry out your plan now, my lord." Torlin said shakily as he turned slowly away from the elf's broken body, his own stooped frame protesting every small movement. "Though the rejuvenation skills of the Eldar are far beyond that of mortal Man, these injuries are rather... extensive."

The hard, dark eyes of the other man slid over the elf's body, taking in the shaking limbs, the ripped clothes, the dark blood. A sadistic smile crept over his chiseled face. "Do what you can for him. We have the time."

As the dark man turned to leave Torlin said in a quiet, shaking voice, "May I inquire as to how the injuries were caused, my lord?"

The dark man turned back to his potion maker, eying the ancient, bent frame, the shaking hands, and the murky eyes. His own dark eyes narrowed in an arrogance found only in royalty.

"Forgive me, my lord," Torlin said, his eyes falling to the covered ground. "I did not mean to over-step my bounds."

The dark man eyed him a moment longer, then smiled sardonically. "I will forgive you. This time. And I will give you the answer as well. There are rumors going through the camp that there is a plot against me rising among the men. I know them to be false, for no man in my company would be quite so thick as to think something that preposterous would work. But they angered me none the less." He nodded in the direction of the shaking prince. "He was a convenient recipient of my anger."

With a perverse laugh he walked from the tent, casting a glance at the slave that had stood silently by the entrance since he had summoned the old man. Once the occupants of the tent were certain that the man had left and was not coming back the tension left the room. But the pain-filled terror that had seeped into every corner remained.

Strider quickly stepped away from the entrance of the tent, his whole body aching from the tension of holding back the overwhelming urge to kill. An urge that had festered into his heart the moment he heard the first tormented screams filling the campgrounds.

He rushed to the bedside and reached for the elf's hand, wanting him to know he was there, to know he wasn't alone. But he quickly stepped away from the bed, sorrow filling his heart as Legolas pulled away from him touch.

"_Caro ú nin." The elf hissed through bloody lips. His eyes finally closed and a shuddering breath left his lungs. Strider didn't know if he should scream or cry. **("Do not [touch] me.")**_

But he did neither. Instead, after a few shaky breaths, he stepped back to the bed and sat down beside the broken body. "I will not harm you, _nin__ caun." He said softly. **(... ,** my prince.")****_

Legolas' body shook as he turned to look at the human, his eyelids opening to reveal haunted blue depths. "_Iston." He whispered, his broken lips splitting farther, bright red blood sliding down his chin. "__Iston." He repeated. Then his eyes slid shut and his body went limp. **("I know.")**_

Tears slid from Strider's eyes and he did not bother to wipe them away.

**To Be Continued...**

I promise a better chapter next week.

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my beautiful reviewers - **

**Deana - Gleh. Cute. I hate cute. lol. Thanks though.**

**WakingDream**** -** First off, thank you very much for review. I'm glad my story was good enough to entice you to do so. And second, what exactly is a beta reader? I mean, I sorta know, and I hear (well, more like read) about people thanking their beta readers all the time, but I've never really looked into. Care to explain?

**MG87 - Well, I'm glad. I'm still a little... I dunno, squicked by it. I'm not into sappy. lol. But I'm glad it turned out alright. And my muses are in serious trouble. They have been absolutely useless lately!**

**Estel Elven Enchantress - Rendezvous - 'ron-day-voo'. It's French. lol.**

**ElvenSoul**** - Surely you jest, my dear. Though your compliment is very well taken, it is far to generous. Published? Me? Never. And yes, it wasn't until about chapter... 6 in "Memories of Ilithien" that I realized the... rather glaringly obvious similarity to the woods of Ithilien. *smacks self* I'm a bit thick sometimes. :)**

**LegolasLover2003 - So not fair. So very very not fair. That the world should tease us so mercilessly. And are you happy now? I've fixed his hands. *grins***

**cherryfaerie**** - I had no idea you had an account with ff.net. I assumed since you didn't sign in for your reviews that you were an 'anonymous'. And as for Viggo... well, I'll e-mail you a web-addy that has a lot of his work on it. Not only is he a photographer, but he's a painter, a poet, and a musician as well. And he does everything just as amazingly as he acts. And about your question, Torlin needs the Arandant king's blood. Sorry I didn't make that clear. Oh, and by the way, your little sister is absolutely adorable. I should have told you in the e-mail I sent back, but I was in a rush. Sorry if I seemed a little terse.**

**silvertoekee**** - The other guys. And I stick to my belief that it is stupid to have 3 day exhibits! Grr!**

**Elenillor**** -** Holy crap. lol. That's crazy. That was certainly fun to read. Probably one of the best, and most thorough, reviews I've gotten in a long time. Thank you. And no worries on spacing out. It's a common occurrence in my own head, so I completely understand. :)

**Coolio02 - Thank you!**

**Gwyn**** -** lol. On both your modesty and your slashy party-self. And uh... thanks for not voicing your anti-Bush sentiments. No offence, but I myself am rather fond of our current President. *shrugs* Not that I find it wrong that you do not agree. To each his own, as I always say. You go you way and I'll go mine. :)

**Elanor8 - You're welcome and thank you!**

**Cosmic Castaway - Yes. Yes, very nice images indeed. I did rather enjoy writing that part. *grins***

**Kit Cloudkicker - Ummm... to be frank with you, your reviews confuse me. *blushes* Am I missing something?**

**Templa**** Otmena - 3 days? Uhg! Torture. I once had to go an entire month without our computer. No internet for a month! Can you imagine? It still gives me nightmares. lol. Anyway, thanks for the reassurance on the mushyness. And I hope I didn't bring the mood back down too much. *cackles loudly* Yes! Yes I do! No more mush! Only pain and suffering! *coughs* Sorry. It's 4 o'clock in the morning right now. I need sleep. Bad.**

**tay-yy**** - Thank you! And good day to you too.**


	10. Danger

Holy crap! You guys rock beyond belief! That's by far the most reviews I've ever recieved for one chapter. It almost took me long to reply than it did for me to write the new chapter! And for a filler too. You guys must REALLY like seeing the poor elfling get tortured. I'll have to keep that in mind. *grins*

And now, for a plug.  My dear reviewer **Marauderluver4-ever is a newcomer to the realm of fanfiction that is Lord of the Rings and would greatly appreciate some input on her new story **'Red Sun'**. So go check it out. And tell her that Adrienne sent you. Though, it won't do anything for you. I've just always wanted to say that. :)**

Thank you all!!!

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 10 - Danger**

Strider held his breath as his hands slid over pale skin, probing, searching. Legolas' chest rose and fell in a soft rhythm under his touch, the elf's blue eyes watching every movement of his hands. Strider's fingers danced over the place where the prince's ribs had been broken, gently applying pressure to the area. The elf winced but made no other movement.

The Ranger pulled his hands away and sat back. His eyes met Legolas' and he nodded reassuringly. The elf sighed and returned the nod, then slowly pulled his green tunic over his head. Strider reached to assist him when he grimaced in pain but a harsh glare from the elf had him pulling his hands back to his lap. The young human's eyes rolled up in frustration. Legolas grinned.

After a moment of comfortable silence Strider stood from the large bed and walked over to the back of the tent. 'I'll be back tomorrow.' He mouthed when he caught Legolas' eyes. The prince nodded. 'Thank you.' He mouthed in return, one delicate hand resting protectively over his mending ribs. Strider smiled then left the tent.

*

"This is hopeless, Torlin." Strider sighed as he rejoined the potion maker at their tent. "I'll never be able to free him. There is no way to get to the king. He is always guarded, day and night."

"Then give up." Torlin said, his steady hands pouring a clear liquid into a glass bottle. "You can leave any time you wish. If this is truly hopeless, just go, for there is no sense in staying."

Strider sighed and sat down hard on the ground in front of the fire. "I cannot go." He said, defeated, just as he had every other night for the past 2 weeks when this same conversation had taken place.

"Then stop complaining and think of a solution. Here." The old man handed him the bottle, its top covered in blue sealing wax.

Strider took the potion and stared at it grimly. The contents swirled in the glass, the clear liquid dyed red by the dancing fire. "Why do you make me do this?" He asked, rubbing his free hand over his face in exhaustion.

"The men find it humorous."

Strider glared at his mentor as he rose and started walking towards the edge of the camp. His gait slow, his eyes blank, his made his way to the large fire on the outskirts of the encampment. Above the fire was a large caldron, filled with a sickly brown goo. He broke the seal and poured the contents of the bottle into the slop, using the large wooden spoon to stir it in. Two cloaked men watched him from several feet away, smirking as he did this.

Slowly, from all around him, slow, lifeless figures started to make their way to the pot, bowls in hand. Strider picked up one of the rough wooden bowls and scooped out some of the thick, gloppy soup every movement mechanical; an exact match to those lifeless beings surrounding him. The rest of the slaves did the same, then slowly started their way back to their sleeping places to eat the gruel, along with the potion that made them the lifeless, controllable beings they had become.

Strider tossed the empty bowl, its contents now soaking into the earth in some random corner of the camp, to the ground when he returned to his tent. "Are you sure we can't-"

"I've told you, boy. The effects don't wear off quickly enough not to be noticed." Torlin said sourly around the pipe in his mouth. He stood abruptly and walked to the entrance of the tent. "Stop thinking so much, boy. Just find the answer."

Strider jumped to his feet and glared at the old man. "I don't see why you think I can do this." He hissed, his eyes flashing in the fire light. "You have been here for years and have not found the answer. How can you expect me too?"

"Because, child." Torlin said, his hands curling around an invisible object. "It's in your blood. Now stop thinking of what is and isn't possible and find the answer!" With a swift jerk of his hand he was inside the tent, leaving the Ranger to his thoughts.

*

Legolas sat silently on his bed, staring at his hands, his sharp eyes searching for the round scars at the center of his palms. A small smile curled his lips when he saw that he could barely discern the pale circles. They would be gone for good soon.

Suddenly his guards burst through the entrance of his tent. The elf looked up slowly, his cold gaze meeting theirs. They advanced on him quickly, though he could feel the fear seeping through their hard exteriors. He laughed when they grabbed him, pulling him from the bed, their grips on his arms tight, frightened. He didn't fight them.

"Is there a reason for this, gentlemen?" Legolas asked after several moments of nothing.

One of the guards grunted and nodded at his companion. The other released one, white-knuckled grip from his forearm and pulled an odd device from his belt. The thing was crudely made, a thick leather strap that buckled at the ends, with a large round leather ball attached to the center on the inside of the slightly curving belt.

The man released Legolas' arm completely and grabbed his hair at the back of his head. He yanked backwards sharply, pulling his head back. Legolas let out an angry shout and the man jammed the leather ball into his mouth. Legolas jerked back in response to the object, but the man pulled on his hair again, bringing him to his knees.

The guard quickly pulled the leather strap around his head, buckling it tightly. Legolas began to struggle, his eyes flashing in anger but the other guard backhanded him across the temple, sending sprawling to his back on the ground. Then the man stepped on his wrist, and the other followed suit, pinning him to the ground.

The elf started kicking his legs, angry shouts coming out as garbled moans around the ball lodged in his mouth. He managed to kick his legs high enough to come into contact with one of the guards, his body curling in on itself as he bucked against their hold.

After the hard kick to his gut one of the guards shouted for help and immediately two more men came into the tent. After a few moments struggle and several more good kicks from Legolas, one which resulted in a loud crack and a lot of blood running from one man's nose, the elf was thoroughly pinned to the cushioned ground with one man holding valiantly to each limb.

Panic rose swiftly through Legolas and he thrashed against the men with all his strength, but he could never gain more than one limbs freedom before he was pinned again. Livid curses came out in a steam of muffled noises from his mouth. Another man lost his hold and there was another crack, followed by a curse.

And then Legolas went still.

The four guards watched him warily, tightening their holds, waiting for a trick. But Legolas no longer paid them any head.

He had heard voice coming from outside the tent. Walking by the entrance now they were clear as new snow to his elven hearing. He knew that voice.

He only had time to release one frantic, muffled scream before one of the guards hit him across the head with a blunt object and the world went dark.

*

'In my blood.' Strider seethed as he walked through the camp, his lifeless pace frustrating him even more. He wanted to run. He wanted to hit something. He wanted... something. 'In my blood. In my blood? The Dunedain are not so different than any other men. What makes him think I can find the answer simply because of my heritage? He's insane.'

But before he could lose himself to any more ranting, a hushed whisper reached his ears. He schooled his features to remain neutral, his body complacent but stiff. His sensitive ears perked up, straining to hear the men, but all he got was broken fragments.

"... arrived just now... an envoy from... not angry, inquisitive... about the prince... an inquiry..."

Then the men moved away and Strider could no longer hear them. An envoy for the prince? Who else could they mean but Legolas. Breathing deeply and using all his strength not to sprint, Strider slowly made his way towards the center of the camp, where many of the men were heading.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the group of people that were talking to the king. Elves. Elves of Mirkwood, wearing the sign of the Royal house. And Avarilas stood at the head of them all. A shout nearly burst from his body at the sight of Legolas' own body guard.

A thin hand slapped over his mouth and pulled him back into the shadows. "Silence." Torlin hissed in his ear. "You cannot make yourself know."

Strider wrenched away from the old man, his eyes wide. "That is Legolas' body guard! I have to go to him. He can't get Legolas out!"

"Yes." Torlin said, dragging the young man farther into the shadows with extraordinary strength for his small frame. "Yes, he could get Legolas out. Then what? You would still be here. As would the other slaves. And if Legolas escapes you will never get them free. You cannot think of just the prince. You must end this for all of them."

Strider turned and stared at the elven delegation, his eyes wide, his breath coming in short gasps. His body quivered with the need to run to Avarilas and tell him everything. If the guard knew, he could make things right. Legolas would not be hurt again. He had to tell him.

But too many visions of lifeless bodies filled his head. Men, women, even children, spending their lives in a drugged daze, doing the bidding of the Arandant. Suffering under their hand, for their amusement. He had seen to many soulless husks wandering the camp in the past weeks. Wondered too often what they would be like once freed from the drug. Did they have families that searched for them as well? Did they have homes to return to?

Strider took one last shuddering breath, guilt and remorse flooding his being, before turning and running back to his tent.

*

"If we hear anything, Master Elf, we will send word to your people immediately." The king of the nomadic people told Avarilas as the Silvan and his guards reached the edge of the camp. "I wish we could do more for you and your missing prince."

Avarilas nodded, thanking the king before he and his people mounted their horses and rode back to the safety of the forest. Something was not right about the camp. Something told Avarilas to look deeper than what he had seen.

The thoughts of unease still plagued his mind as they set up camp deeper into the forest. And they still plagued him as he settled down for the night. It was a constant nagging sense of wrong, like a leak in a roof that you knew was there but you could not find.

Perhaps he should leave a small group behind to watch the camp.

*

'_Delu.' Strider whispered into the wind, his dark eyes watching the forest's edge. '_Delu___.__ Treneri i aran. Delu.' **('Danger.'**** 'Danger. Tell the king. Danger.)**_

*

The trees whispered in the still night, drawing Avarilas from his troubled dreams. Danger, they told him.

Danger.

**To Be Continued...**

I am oddly speechless tonight. *shrugs*

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my amazing (and rather abundant) reviewers - **

**twinlakeshgrl**** - Thank you for telling me about my errors. And no worries, not taken as a flame at all. Actually, I kinda want someone to flame me. I've never had one before. *shrugs* And, just to boost my own pride a little, I did in fact know that 'I know' is 'iston' not 'istos'. When I wrote those last few lines it was verging on 4 o'clock in the morning.**

**LegolasLover2003 -** I missed them! I was out. But Dom was crying? You have no idea how much I LOVE that. That is the sweetest thing! And may I just say again, I love your reviews. They crack me up.

**Deana -** Sorry. Not possible. My muses refuse to cooperate with me. Grr.

**Kit Cloudkicker -** I see now. That makes a lot more sense. lol.

**Gwyn**** - I agree. I mean, I'm all for an abusive Thranduil if it's done properly, but yes, it has been waaay over done.**

**silvertoekee**** - Always glad to be of service! And no worries. The king will get what's coming to him. I think.**

**Templa**** Otmena - You're so good to me. Yes, I know I am too hard on myself. I am my worst critic, but I know of no other way. But reviewers like you make it all better. Thanks!**

**FrodoBaggins87 -** He may, he may not. I don't know. lol.

**ChibiYugiYasha**** - Thank you very much!**

**Elenillor**** - Yes I know! Deadlines are a horrible horrible thing. But I've already promised. And I've been through 4 sets of dentures now. lol. And yes, I'm rather fond of my OC too. Glad you like him!**

**Destiny's Lot -** Ech. Yes, much with the shortness. It is a minor *muses shout 'Major!'* Shut up you! ... problem of mine. I really try to make them longer. Honest.

**temelange**** - Thank you very much. I'm glad you liked it.**

**AlmatariofMirkwood**** - Well thank you for reviewing. And yes, we share that sickness. I rather enjoy seeing my favorite elf get tortured. :)**

**Calenor**** - Me too. I felt so bad for him when I read the chapter the next day.**

**Emiri-chan** -** Always glad to hear of someone else jumping onto the Legolas/angst bandwagon. A wagon that could never become too crowded I must say. And yes, yes I am mean. Thank you for noticing. :)**

**MG87 -** *grins wickedly with you* Yes. How I do love my torture. I find it rather odd however, that so many people so thoroughly enjoy seeing the most ethereal and beautiful creature ever created (even if it was just in one man's brilliant mind and sadly not in the real world) tortured and mutilated and in pain. It makes me wonder what kind of world we live in. Though, I'm not complaining. It just makes me wonder.

**cherryfaerie**** - Sympathy pains. Glad I wrote well enough to create such a response. Though, it probably wasn't very pleasant for you. :P**

**Mauraderluver4-ever -** Great! lol. I'm sorry I haven't reviewed your new chapters! Busy and all that, I'm sure you understand. I'll do it asap though. Oh, and did you see my plug for you? :)

**tay-yy**** - Your favorites? Thanks! That awesome!**

**Elanor8 -** Yes. I was a bit shocked myself. :P

**Katerinarose24 -** Yeah. Poor thing. I really feel sorry for him. Though, not sorry enough to fix him yet.

**Jane Heartilly -** I'm sorry to hear that. That's gotta suck big time. What are you in for? And thank you for reviewing. I appreciate it!

**Wakingdream**** - Haha! I've got my own little junkie group. You're not the first person to tell me that. And as for the beta thing, that sounds cool. And if I can ever get one of these dumb chapters done in time I'd be more than willing to take you up on that offer. I'm always up for constructive criticism.**

**Angel of Imladris -** Thank you very much!

**Allyrien**** Chantel de Montreve - Yeah, that was my intention alright.**

**kimmaree**** - Yes. Yes I did. *grins* Thanks for the review!**


	11. So Close

I am so very sorry, but my computer is freaking out and will not allow me to stay online for more than 3 minutes at a time. Because of this I cannot reply to your reviews as I cannot stay on long enough to get to them.

I want you to know you are all so very appreciated and loved even if I cannot tell you each personally. The amount of reviews I have been getting is... overwhelming. To say the least. Thank you. Any questions that were asked will be responded to in the next post. I'm so sorry.

**"Leaves of Glass"**

**Chapter 11 - So Close**

Elrohir walked serenely through the garden that lay just below his bedroom, basking in the dying light of the setting sun. The past months had been tiring on the elf. There had been several bands of orcs roaming far to close to their home and he and his twin had spent many a night, and some days, destroying the foul creatures.

The younger of the twin sons of Elrond stopped walking, his head turned to the sky, his bright eyes disappearing behind closed lids as he took in a deep breath of the clean, fresh air of his home. He would protect this place he loved for as long as he could. He had vowed this many times.

A moment later he felt a sudden deep sense of foreboding and fear. He opened his eyes to find his brother, older by a few minutes only, standing on the balcony that led to his room. The feeling, Elrohir knew, was coming from him. His brother was troubled indeed for such a strong wave of emotion to reach him. Often he felt these feelings, shared his brother's fears, and his joys; and Elladan in return shared his. But on most occasions it was more of a knowing than an actual physical feeling.

"_Man raeg, muindor_?" Elrohir asked his twin, his eyes searching out Elladan's in the failing light. **("What's wrong, brother?")**

Elladan stared out into the distance, his eyes fixed on a place far from where they stood. "Estel was supposed to return today." He said quietly.

"Oh, Dan. You worry too much." Elrohir laughed softly. Though he loved his young brother just as strongly as Elladan it was always the older twin that took the extra precaution to keep him safe. Elrohir preferred to treat him as if he were truly an elf, for that is what he wished. And admittedly that attitude had gotten the young Dunadain in trouble on several occasions, but he always came out relatively unharmed and happier for the success.

"He has never not returned when he said he would." Elladan reminded his twin, his eyes finally lowering to meet the identical set beneath him.

Elrohir could feel his brother's fear like a palpable thing; something he could grasp in his hand. He was right. It was not like their young human brother to break his word. "Give him a while, Dan." He said assuredly, knowing his brother felt the anxiousness that crept over his spine. "He will return. Often we ourselves have been late on returning, for simple reasons like the weather. Do not fear for Estel. He will be alright."

The two brothers eyes stayed locked on each other. Elrohir slowly felt the fear fall away from his twin's troubled mind, but an uneasiness settled in its place. One that he shared.

*

"He was so close." Legolas whispered, his head resting against the back of the wooden chair. "So close."

Strider nodded, knowing no words would comfort the prince now. Least of all from him. He gently tipped the elf's face towards the light, inspecting the raw skin that wrapped in a thick circle around Legolas' face. It had been a week since Avarilas' arrival with the envoy and this was the first time Strider had been able to see the prince.

They had kept a heavy guard posted at all corners of the tent and chains kept him tied securely to the bed. Heavy chains had been wrapped around his ankles and wrists, a short length of chain connecting them in the middle so that Legolas could just barely stand straight. Another chain attached to the ankles kept him within 5 feet of the bed. And until now they had left the horrid gag in whenever he was not eating. They would take no chances that the elves may come back and hear him.

But now Strider had been 'given' to Legolas temporarily to help him function since the guards were tired of catering to their captive. The Ranger looked closely at the raw skin, cleansing it gently with warm water. He did not look into the haunted blue eyes that stared ahead.

"Some still wait outside the camp." Strider said as he put away the bowl and clean cloths. "They watch from the forest. I have tried to walk near where they keep lookout, but I do not think they recognize me."

Legolas nodded slowly. "It has been a while since you last visited Mirkwood with y-Elrond. They may be new to the palace guard, or they may simply not recognize you as a grown man."

A thick silence filled the tent for a long while.

Legolas sighed heavily, only breaking the silence after it became unbearable. His back curved so that his head rested in his bound hands. "_Ai, Iluvitar*. Garo le cûn le dan lim le hên_?" **("Have you turned your back on your child?")**

"_Car-ú pedo sui, nin caun_." Strider implored, boldly reaching out to grasp Legolas' shoulder. **("Do not speak like [that], my prince.")**

"_Im and an i yrn_, Estel." The desolate creature sighed. His head shook back and forth in his hands; slowly, as if it hurt to move even so little. Though it was not a physical hurt that Strider sensed in the prince.** ("I long for the trees,)**

"_An i sûl. An i aror. A edregol an i elenath_." Legolas continued. His voice was soft, defeated. "They have not allowed me to leave the tent, even to stand in the entrance and watch the sun rise, in nearly a month. They grew weary of watching me, so they do not let me leave. I fear I will never see these things again. And yet, I fear even more that I will. I cannot stop him, Estel. I cannot stop his plans for I cannot resist him. I cannot stop him." **("For the wind. For the sun. And especially for the stars.")**

And finally Strider understood. It was not for his own safety that the prince feared. But for his family. Every day that passed brought him closer to the fate which the Arandant king had condemned him. He would be his family's assassin.

*

"The men grow restless, my lord."

The man cloaked in black lounged against the back of his fur-lined chair, his long nails sliding through a blade of grass, tearing it into strips. "Why should this concern me?" He asked, not bothering to look up at the figure in his tent doorway. The man had been standing there for nearly 4 hours now, not moving save to breathe. A dark bruise adorned one thin cheek, a long, angry red scar ran down the length of the other.

But he was not one of the countless slaves that wandered mindless through the camp doing the menial chores un-befitting his men. No, he had his own free will, to a point. He had stood silently, rigidly, for so long now simply because his lord wished it. But now he was finally permitted to speak the reason he had come so long ago.

"Well, m-my lord..." The man stuttered. The dark man allowed a slow smile to form on his lips at the creatures fear. "The men, they... they are taking their restlessness out on the... on the slaves. There have been 16 deaths in the past 5 days. If... if this keeps up there... there will be no more slaves."

The dark man turned slowly to look at the being cowering in the doorway. The man flinched visibly. "As I've said... Why should this concern me?" The dark man's velvety voice was laced with annoyance. This, as many well knew, was a very dangerous thing.

"W-w-well, m-my lord... I...I... the m-men, th-they..."

"Oh, stop it." The dark man sighed, rising from his chair and slowly walking to the other side of the spacious tent. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're still useful to me." He sat down on the edge of the heavy desk and picked up a bunch of grapes with delicate fingers. When his eyes locked on the man at the door they quickly reminded him that he had better remain useful. For his own good.

"Yes, my lord. You see, if the men loose their slaves they will become... unhappy. And with all do respect, my lord, your men must stay happy. For your plans to work, my lord."

The dark man slid a plump grape past his lips and began chewing slowly. He shrugged and dropped the rest of the bunch then stood and turned to the other man. "Very well. Inform Donard that I wish to speak with him immediately."

"Y-yes, my lord." The man left the tent as quickly as possible.

The dark man scowled at his exit. Such a pity he had become so skittish already. When they became that way they became useless, for their fear of him overrode their good sense. Ah well. He was not completely gone yet. Perhaps he had enough courage left in him to wait out the training of a new 'assistant'. After that he could be given to the men. Let them take their frustrations out on something not quite as... placid as the others.

'They think of nothing but their own pleasure.' The dark man sighed, looking lazily around the enclosure. 'But on such a miniscule level. If it is slaves they want, it is slaves they will have.' A hungry glint filed his eyes and his hands curled around something that wasn't there.

'But those that serve me well will have much more than these pathetic creatures they call slaves. No. I will reward those who are loyal to me with something much... better.'

His hands twisted as if to snap a twig. His mind echoed with the glorious sound of delicate bones breaking beneath his hands. Visions of pure red blood flowing over his skin. Golden hair coming away in his grasp. And depthless blue eyes filling with tears and fear.

The royal brat was so strong. But so very close to breaking. So very close.

"My lord?" A voice asked from beyond his doorway, knocking the dark man from his visions.

"Donard. Have the men begin breaking down the camp. We leave just after dawn." The dark man ordered, his eyes glinting in the candlelight. "We leave for the Elven city."

"Yes, my lord."

A smile twisted his lips and he breathed in the scent of blood. So very close. But he would make the breaking last for as long as he wished. And he was a very patient man.

**To Be Continued...**

Just FYI, whoever leaves the first review will be my 200th! Yay! You guys rock!

Until next time!

Adrienne


	12. Murderer

*sighs* I have just spent the last four days baby-sitting my two baby cousins. Four days of diapers and drool and screaming. And I swear, if I see the Wiggles one more time I will scream. But the worst part was, no computer. No internet, not Microsoft word. I had to write my story out on this weird flat stuff called paper. It was horrible.

And just for anyone who was still wondering, that leather thing with the ball from chapter 10 was a gag. And it wasn't my invention sadly. I'd love to take credit for it, but I read about said instrument in a book. I don't remember the title.

**'Leaves of Glass'**

**Chapter 12 - Murderer**

Legolas paced restlessly across his tent as far as the chains would allow. The men were packing. Torlin had come to retrieve Strider. They would be leaving soon.

His body shook with emotion as he walked back and forth, back and forth, his mind tumbling over a thousand thoughts. There had to be a way. Any way. He could not do this.

He stopped pacing and held perfectly still. He breathed deeply, his eyes sliding shut. He sunk down into himself; became aware of his _fae_, his spirit. Like a bright light it shone with the radiance of the Firstborn, of his immortality. He tried to extinguish the light.

He let out a primal scream when it failed once again. He could hear far off laughter, echoing through his mind.

He sank to his knees, his hands wrapping around his head, pulling at his tangled hair. He rocked back and forth on the ground, deep, ragged breaths pulling through his lungs. He could not do this. He had to stop him.

'You are weak.' The voice whispered through his head. He had not heard the hated whispering in many weeks. Not since he had learned of his fate. But now, when he was vulnerable, breaking, it returned to chip at his tortured mind.

"I am not weak." Legolas sneered, the lie sounding false even to him. "You cannot hurt me."

'You are weak.' It said again. 'You are death.'

"No."

'You will kill them.'

"I will not."

'You will make them beg as you have. You will make them crawl as you have.'

"Stop it."

'They deserve to die.'

"Stop it!"

'They should have come for you. But they didn't, and now you will make them pay."

"Leave me alone!"

'Murderer.'

"NO!"

*

"This cannot happen!" Strider seethed, barely keeping his voice under control as he stuffed Torlin's belongings into boxes and bags. "We must do something!"

Torlin carefully folded the bed sheets and laid them in a box. "The only thing you can do is to release him from the poison."

"I don't know how! Damn it, Torlin, tell me what to do!"

Torlin pushed a thin pillow into the box. "I do not know."

Strider whirled around, his eyes narrowed in anger, his chest heaving with his breath. "Who are you?" He demanded, moving so that he was a scant few inches from Torlin's weather-lined face. "Why are you here? Why are you so important to the Arandant?"

Torlin stared back at him with milky eyes. "You know why I am here."

"They can find another potion maker. Why you?" The old man moved to stand from his stool but Strider blocked him, forcing him to sit, to look at him. "Why you?"

For a moment the old man said nothing. Then, "Because of who I was."

"What do you mean?" The Ranger took a small step back, some of his anger disappearing to be replaced with curiosity. This old man was just as much of a mystery to him as the elf was.

"I... The king keeps me in this... prison, making his potions, forcing me to enslave these innocents... in mockery of who I was." He stood, firmly pushing Strider away, crossing to the other side of the small tent. "I was the... advisor, to the king."

Strider turned, following his movements with sharp eyes. "The king of the Arandant?"

Torlin turned back to him but his eyes looked past him, to some distant thing. "No." He said softly. One wrinkled hand reached out for a chair and he sat slowly. Strider thought for the first time that he looked old. Truly, old. Not under pretense.

"No." The potion maker continued, his murky eyes finally coming up to meet Striders. "I was advisor to the king of Gondor. Your father."

*

Legolas' lungs burned. He had not moved this much in weeks. He forced himself to still his breathing as he watched the cloaked men from the shadow of a wagon. Lifeless slaves passed him, carrying bags, loading horses and carts, tearing down tents.

He spared them no glances, but they lingered at the back of his mind, the thought of their plight burning like salt in a wound. He thought of Strider.

But even his life meant less, far less, than that of his people. He would sacrifice the Ranger, and the slaves, if it meant his people would go free. He would sacrifice his own life. And so, when the men had removed his chains so that they could bring him to the king, he had run. For the first time since being brought to this wretched camp he had tried to escape. And failed miserably. For even a warrior of the Eldar cannot out fight an entire army.

His arm burned where he had been sliced by a knife and is left knee ached with the lingering feel of a swift, powerful kick that had tried to unbalance him. They were not trying to kill him. Because to kill him would be to kill their king. But he had hoped, for he knew that he would not escape, that he would take one of them by surprise. That someone would make a mistake.

But they were too well trained, or too fearful of the wrath of their leaders, to make a mistake. An attempt at throwing himself on the blade of one man hand ended only with the cut on his arm. And now he was exactly where they wanted him to be, where they had chased him; at the wrong end of the camp. He was on the opposite end from the forest. He would never escape now.

But he would not give up. Another troop of men raced past his hiding place and then he quickly ran towards the edge of the camp. If he breached the camp and made the fields behind, would they become desperate enough to use arrows?

He heard a shout go up and cursed. He increased his speed, his knee screaming beneath him as his legs pounded towards the green meadows. He dodged slaves and horses and wagons as quickly as he could. He jumped over a burning fire, the orange flames licking at his boots.

Around a bend a man stepped out from behind a wagon, his hands reaching for him. Legolas spun away and tried to dodge between two horses but the man lunged for him, wrapping his strong arms around the elf's legs, bringing him to the ground.

Legolas landed with a thud, the air rushing from his body as the man landed on top of him. His vision swam for a moment; he gasped breath back into his lungs. And then he struggled, kicking out with his legs. His heel came into contact with the man's shin. The man grunted and loosened his hold and Legolas tried to dive away from him but another man came down on him, crushing him to the ground.

The prince felt the rough scrape of rope on his hands and jerked away from the man. He kicked out again, his foot colliding with an unseen target. He screamed when powerful fingers wrapped around his wounded knee and twisted. He heard the clinking of chains.

'Murderer.'

Legolas screamed again, a piercing cry of rage and desperation and used all his strength to twist in the men's strong holds. Free to see his targets his hands shot out and collided with two startled faces. The men fell back, hands clutching at their faces, blood pouring from broken flesh.

Legolas leaped into the air, landing on his feet, his knee shaking, nearly sending him to the ground. But he kept moving, kept running for his goal. Another group of men raced into his path and he dove to the side, rolling under a wagon and speeding on. He could barely hear the ruckus of the camp over the roaring in his ears, barely tell what was happening around him anymore.

He hurdled another campfire, felt hands reach for him as he sailed through the air. He landed in a spin and kicked first one, then another attacker away. He heard the hiss of flesh meeting fire but ignored it as he sent an elbow into the gut of another man. Another went down with a bone shattering punch.

More hands grabbed at him; he lunged forward, away from them, and climbed the side of a wagon. He leaped from the top and landed on the other side; pain shot up his leg from his knee.

He had made it. There was nothing but green fields spread out in front of him.

And as time seemed to slow down at his victory he heard, over the pounding of his heart, over the sound of the air racing past his ears, over the shouts of the men in the camp...

"Stop."

Calm, composed, almost lazy, the voice of the king reached his ears. And he obeyed.

His limbs stopped moving in an instant. He felt his body teeter, his breath slow. Then, as if he were watching himself in a dream, he saw the king ride up beside him on a gray warhorse. The dark man leaned down, casually, coolly, and pulled his unresponsive body into the saddle, a protective arm around his waist.

"You cannot leave yet, my prince." The dark man said, soft laughter floating past the prince's ears. "I still have plans for you."

'Murderer.' The voice whispered as Legolas was ridden back to the center of the camp.

*

"You knew my father?" Strider whispered, suddenly finding it difficult to stand, see, think. He grasped blindly behind him for the stool and sat down quickly.

"Yes." Torlin said, his gaze falling to the floor again. "I was with him when he died."

Strider shook his head slowly. "How... I... tell me. Tell me everything."

Torlin sighed and closed his eyes, taking a moment to catch his bearings. "He was a good man, your father." He said fervently. "You are a lot like him in many ways. Your loyalty, for instance. He was leading the orcs that killed him away from a camp of wounded men. He knew it was he that they had come for. A great company of the Dunedain had just fought against a larger company of the foul creatures and many had been hurt. Your father, along with myself and several others were leading them away when we were surrounded. They killed your father and two others, and took the rest of us to be sold. The king of the Arandant recognized me, for we had had dealings with them about their invasions into passive territory. He bought me for my knowledge, but mostly out of spite."

"That is why I recognize your accent." Strider said softly, almost to himself. "It is from Gondor, like my father."

Torlin nodded. "This is why I believe in you, Aragorn." 

The Ranger shuddered at his true name. He stood from the stool and began to pace. "I wish nothing of that life." He hissed, shaking his head earnestly. "I do not want to be king."

Torlin stood and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eyes. "Whether you wish for the throne or not is not the point. Not yet, not here. You are still your father's child and that is why I know you can do this. In you runs the blood of kings, Aragorn."

"Yes." Strider hissed, pulling away from the old man's hold. "And their weakness as well."

"Would you let your friend die because you fear what you had no control over?"

Strider said nothing. A horn blew somewhere in the camp. "We must leave." He whispered. Then he picked up a box and walked out of the tent.

*

Legolas watched the trees as he rode through the forest on the back of a dappled mare. His bound hands were concealed by a soft elven cloak and a command of silence from the king kept his mouth tightly closed. The king, sitting atop the warhorse, rode on his left; a captain dressed in fine clothes was on his right.

"It is an interesting kingdom you have, my prince." The king said, his eyes wandering through the dark trees. "So dark, yet so beautiful." Legolas turned his head away, glaring into the shadows. "It will make a strong hold for my armies. We are near the middle of the forest now. The Anduin and the Misty Mountains lay to the West, Rohan is much farther south." Legolas sneered, a snort of contempt showing his offense at being told where in his own kingdom he lay.

"My men are going around the North end and will enter the forest through the head once you have established your kingdom." The king continued, ignoring the prince. A wave of cold dread washed through the elf.

'Murderer.' The voice whispered again. And Legolas prayed for death.

*

"My lord, please, you must leave." Avarilas pleaded, his eyes imploring, begging the king to listen to him.

"No." Thranduil said, glaring at the guard. "My son is in danger. I will not abandon him."

"My lord, the message said that it was you, not Legolas that was in peril. Please."

Thranduil shook his head forcefully, his long braids swinging. "And who else but Legolas could have told the trees of the danger?"

"Anyone who knows how to speak Sindarin." The king's oldest son said from the windowsill he sat in. "Avarilas speaks wisdom father. Perhaps we should listen to him."

Thranduil stopped at his desk and slammed his palms on the hard surface sending a stack of papers fluttering to the floor. "I will not leave your brother!" He shouted, then he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. "I cannot loose him again, Lindelen. Not again." He looked up from the desk, his icy blue eyes meeting with the identical pair of his son's.

"You go." He said softly. The statement was a command from his king, not a request from his father. "I will not loose you either. But I must stay."

Lindelen nodded briskly. He stood from his perch and crossed the room, kissing hid father before leaving the study, dragging Avarilas with him.

"You cannot-"

"I'm not." Lindelen hissed into his friend's ear. "My father told me to go. But he did not say where."

Avarilas gave the prince a suspicious look before following him down the hall. 'This is not going to turn out well.' He thought.

**To Be Continued...**

I thought I'd give you a long chapter for once. It probably won't happen again. :) And how did everyone like the little gollum-schizo argument?

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my dearly loved reviewers - **

**Kimaree**** -** I don't mind you using my e-mail. That's what it's there for. And just FYI, you were actually my 200th review, just, not according to ff.net. *hands you a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies* Thanks!

**WakingDream**** -** You were my 200th review (according to ff.net)! *hands you a plate of home made chocolate chip cookies* Thank you! And you were quite right. I live approximately 2 hours give or take from the Pacific Ocean. And I would have had you beta this chapter (cuz it would be cool to have my very own beta), but as I said in the author's note, no internet! Ach! I'll try really really hard to get this one done BEFORE Sunday so that you can beta it for me.

**Bec**** -** You dear sweet flatterer. The best? Are you sure? I doubt it. Top 5 maybe, but not the best.

**Autore**** Kozoma -** A paper-cut? Hmmm... lol. Uh, no. And yes, there have been many before you (203 to be exact *grins*), but I'm always glad to receive another review. Thanks!

**Templa**** Otmena -** Yes, skim reading kinda takes all the fun out of it. I do that to books when I really really want to know if someone is going to live or something like that, then I'm always disappointed cuz I didn't get the whole effect. And thank you for your crossed fingers, my internet, while not completely fixed, is at least letting me on for long periods of time again.

**MG87 -** In response to your question from your review for chapter 10, you know darn well when the sequel is coming. It's coming after the prequel which is coming after this one is ended which is going to be who knows when. And no worries, I will always update somehow.

**Estel Elven Enchantress -** You were number... *counts reviews before you* 205. And yes, nothing to worry about. *leaves to continue panicking* :)

**tmelange**** -** Thank you!

**silvertoekee**** -** My you ask a lot of questions. Sadly, I cannot answer them. Well, I suppose I could if I really wanted to but...

**Gwyn**** -** Me too. :)

**Twinlakeshgrl**** -** Yes, yes, short, I get it. Was this one better?

**Jopru**** -** Well, your wait may cease. Or, I suppose now it has to start all over again huh?

**cherryfaerie**** -** Ah, therein lies the problem. You're very observant.

**Deana -** I know. Aren't I mean?

**MelayneBaggins**** -** I love to be cruel though so it's okay. *grins*

**Viresse0 -** Well now, I can't kill him. He still has a quest to go on. And a lot more stories to be in. But yes, I will continue to torture him, thank you.

**Elven Kitten -** Thank you very much for you review!

**Cosmic Castaway -** Hey, I was torturing myself while writing that! Ah, such a lovely mental picture. *grins* And yes, much with the torture. And yes, dominatrix. That sounds nice. *grabs leather suit and whip* I think I can find a use for this. And do you see this? *points at legal looking document* This is a restraining order issues by the government of Mirkwood. Prince Legolas says you have to stay away from me.

**AllThatJaZZ1 -** Your favorite? You flatterer. And yes, we always hurt the ones we love. Though, most people just prefer to stay with the emotional. I like the physical better. ;)

**Allyrien**** Chantel de Montreve -** lol. Your name is longer that your review. That's funny.

**Kit Cloudkicker -** Ah yes, my cliffhangers. How I do love them.

**Elenillor**** -** I don't care when I get them, just as long as I do. *grins* And yeah, I'm all into the drama.


	13. Messages

What? You mean, I can post before two o'clock in the morning. I didn't know that.

And just to clarify, it has been brought to my attention that I have made an error. Sort of. Let me explain. I know that Arathorn was never actually the crowned king of Gondor. I realize now that the way I wrote the last chapter it sounded like I was making him so. When Torlin said that he served 'the king' it was more a term of respect than a title. Sorry for the confusion.

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**"I could not for the life of me think of a title for this chapter."**  (Any suggestions?)

Elladan watched as the hawk flew away, heading northeast to Mirkwood. A slip of parchment, its urgent message hastily written, was clutched in his hand. He felt the tell-tale feeling that told him when his brother was near and sighed.

"A message from Mirkwood?" Elrohir asked as he came to a stop beside his twin. He laid a hand on the elder elf's shoulder.

Elladan nodded. "We are needed."

"What of Estel?"

Elladan said nothing for a long while. It had been far too long since they had heard from their human brother. The fear that had sprung up near two weeks ago had returned, consuming both brothers, crippling their minds with worry. They knew that one day they would loose the child they had loved from first sight, but not yet. It was too soon. They were to leave that day in search of their missing brother.

Elladan sighed, then turned towards the entrance to his bedroom. "He would have us go." He said.

"Ai." Elrohir agreed.

'Forgive us, brother.' Elladan thought as he began to prepare a trip to Mirkwood.

**

Two weeks. Two weeks since the company had left the fields beside the wood. It would be another 4 before they reached Mirkwood's palace. Only one for Legolas and the Arandant king. Strider was running out of time. But he was no closer to figuring out the solution than he had been the day they were captured.

Strider lay on the soft grass, staring at the bright sky, watching the clouds shift and change, watching the birds fly over head. Yesterday he had seen a hawk, heading towards the woods. Plodding feet passed by his head, taking unresponsive bodies to their tasks. He was tucked away in the lee of a large wagon, out of the way of any person.

Horses whinnied from all directions, men laughed and ate and told raucous stories. He thought of many things, as he lay their, unnoticed by anyone. He thought of his family. His brothers, his father. He thought of Ilithien, and his mother; and of the beautiful creature that had stolen his heart in that hidden glade. He thought of his true father. The man who had died before he could ever know him.

_'He was leading the orcs that killed him away from a camp of wounded men.'_

Torlin's story had run rampant through his head every night for the past 2 weeks. For 7 years, since he learned of his true heritage, he had wondered how his father, a king in his own right, had been killed. Elrond knew nothing more than that he had been slain by orcs.

And now the young Ranger, who had taken his father's place as their chief, knew the truth. 'He died because of who he was.' He had told himself a thousand times, both before and after he knew. 'But he died for them as well. For those he loved.'

_'I fear even more that I will.'_

The prince's words suddenly sprang to Strider's mind. He wondered why memories of his father would bring to mind the prince. Two birds flew over head, fighting just above his eyes over some small thing, and his mind ran to other things.

Hours seemed to have passed while Strider sat and thought. Torlin had not called for him, and no other was allowed to command him, so he stayed in his peaceful hovel, just thinking. The sun started to set, the sky above him darkening each moment. The clouds started to change to shades of fiery red and orange. A group of men settled on the other side of the wagon and Strider smelt the sharp stench of wet wood burning, the sap snapping as the men talked.

He ignored them for the most part, only small bits of useless information floating passed the wagon to his ears. They began to speak of the prince and his escape attempt.

When Strider had first learned what the elf had done he had been angry. 'I could have left long ago.' The Ranger thought, the bitterness rising again. 'But I stayed for him. And the others. Yet he would leave us all without a thought.' But in the midst of his self-righteous anger some small part of his mind held to the conversation of the men. 

He sat up quickly as one small thing caught his attention. But such a sudden move, after so long being still, sent the blood from his head in a rush. He shook away the dizziness, straining to concentrate on the men, on one man. On his tale.

"I'm telling ya, the damned beast tried to throw himself on my blade. I nearly killed him. Would have if I hadn't turned me arm."

"You'd be dead right now, had ya killed 'im." Another said. "Woulda killed the king too."

"I know that, ya git! That's why I turned me arm! I'd like to see the damned thing dead. No better 'n animals if ya ask me."

"No one asked you." A third sneered. "Elves have their good points, 'spite their being damned abnormal. That one the king's got pretty damned fine if you ask me. And he's male. Wouldn't mind getting my hands on one of the women. Us being captains an' all, I'm hoping we get a nice little... reward. After we've taken over their territory."

Strider called on all of his training to keep himself from ripping out their throats as talk like that continued for some time, a round of agreement going up from all the men in the circle.

"I'm tellin' ya though." The first said after a while. His voice had become thick with the effects of too much ale in too short a time. "He tried to kill 'imself. Tried to throw 'imself on me blade. Turned me arm. Good that way, I am. But he tried to kill 'imself."

"Why would he do that?" Another of his companions asked. "He's immortal. Why would he want to kill himself?"

"Dunno. I just thought he was tryin' ta 'scape. Pass me tha' bottle."

'Why indeed.' Strider thought as he crept away from the wagon, back to Torlin's tent.

**

Legolas watched from his seat atop the mare as the men hacked their way through another expanse of thorned bushes. In two weeks time they should have been nearing the palace soon. But thanks to Legolas' 'directions', they were not nearly as close as the Arandant king wished to be.

One of the men let out a loud curse and Legolas smirked as he pulled one of the three inch thorns from his arm. The man cursed again as the barbed end tore a hole through his skin. Though the prince could not give bad directions, he had sported a black eye for nearly a week and the king had taken to 'commanding' his help after his first turn had taken them to the center of a sink pit, but he could still make it as difficult as possible for them.

There was another way, a much simpler way, not 2 miles to the west. It was a trail in fact, created by the deer, made use of by the elves when they traveled these parts of the dark forest. Legolas smirked again as another man cursed. But the king did not specify a 'simple' route.

Legolas' back stiffened and the fine hairs on his neck stood on end. "Laugh all you want, my prince." The king hissed in his ear. "But we will reach you home eventually. And then your family will die."

The smirk left Legolas' mouth and he stared at the forest ahead.

*

Hours passed before they had cleared a useable path through the bushes. All their fine clothes had been torn, and they all sported new, oozing wounds. Had Legolas forgotten to mention that the barbs were poisoned? Ah well, what can you do. They were finally on their way though, heading closer to the palace.

Suddenly an arrow whizzed passed the king's head, imbedding itself in the trunk of a dying tree.

"The next Man to take a step will not be missed." A severe, melodic voice commanded from the trees. Immediately the king had Legolas by his side, a handful of his robes clutched in his fist. Whispered words fell only to his ears.

"Peace, my friends." Legolas kicked his horse to the front of the line, raising one hand to take the hood from his head. Instantly the elves had bowed to one knee before the prince's horse.

"_Caun Legolas, díheno men_." One said hastily. "_Ammen car-ú gwathel le_." **("Prince Legolas, forgive us." "We did not recognize you.")**

"Up, my friends, it is quite alright." The prince said, regally waving them from the ground. "I am glad to see that you are doing you duties well. What is your name?"

"Thank you, my prince. And I am called Jesteph. I am captain of the guard that patrols this area." The elf replied. "We were given word from several elves at the forests edge that _Edain_ had entered the wood. I am surprised that they did not recognize you." **(... Humans ...)**

Legolas said nothing. He had thought of the sentries often, wondered if they had seen his attempt at escape. But he had been on the wrong side of the camp. Even with elven eyes they would not have know he was an elf, let alone their prince, from that distance. And as for them not recognizing him, the Arandant king had informed him that the cloak he wore would 'shield his identity for unwanted eyes'.

After a moment the young captain went on. "Why were you cutting through the forest, my prince? Why did you not take the path?" The guard, though he tried not too, kept flicking glances towards the Men.

Legolas instantly felt the cold gaze of the king at his back. He knew any form of delay was now lost. They would be at the palace within the week. "Yes, the path. Of course. I suppose I had forgotten. It has been long since I traveled this part of the woods."

"Perhaps you would like an escort, my lord? At least to the palace grounds." The captain said. Legolas thought despairingly of the trust the young elf placed in him. To make such a suggestion to the king at his back would more than likely have cost the man his life.

'Will I betray that trust?' He wondered.

"My lord?" The young captain asked.

Legolas shook his head, as if to rid it of such thoughts. "Yes, yes of course. I would appreciate that." The prince noticed the captain's glance and the Men behind him. "They are... with me." He said as explanation. "I am... bringing them to the palace."

"Of course, my lord. This way, if you will." Jesteph beckoned one of his men over, whispered directions into his ear; then he slipped his hand around the bridle of Legolas' horse and began leading the company to the west, towards the path. The king rode up beside him and whispered another command into his ear. A shiver ran up the prince's spine.

"Did you hear, my lord, of your brother?" Jesteph asked once they had reached the trail.

"No." Legolas replied, his eyes fixed steadily ahead. He could feel the king's icy glare on his back. "Tell me."

"He left, my lord." The captain explained. He set a comfortable pace, his hand idly stroking the soft fur of the mare. "No one knows why, but some say they heard Avarilas arguing with your father, then both he and your brother simply left."

The Arandant king hissed something into the prince's ear. "No one knows where he went?" Legolas asked, his voice slow, almost bored.

"No, my lord."

"But my father remains at the palace?"

"Yes, my lord. He has been greatly distressed since your disappearance. Most said you had simply gone off on another of your adventures, but he wouldn't believe so. He will be pleased you return unharmed."

"Indeed." Legolas whispered. Cruel laughter echoed through his mind as they drew closer to the palace.

**

Torlin stared at the paper in his hand, the familiar hand writing barely visible in the light of the moon. 'I have found the answer.' It said. So simple, yet it created so many questions. But Torlin supposed he had not expected anything more. He had not even been surprised when Strider left the camp, leaving nothing but the note behind.

"Good luck." He whispered, sending a prayer on the winds. "My King."

**To Be Continued...**

Ooh, bad cliffie. Mwahahahahaha *choke* I'll give anyone a cookie of you can figure out what Strider's going to do.

And may I just repeat that all my reviewers are amazing. You make a girl feel loved. *hugs everyone*

Until next time!

Adrienne

**silvertoekee**** -** Hey, curiosity is a good thing. I was definitely a 'why child'. Why is the sky blue? Why do dogs bark? Too bad I'm not going to give you the answers though. *grins*

**Twinlakeshgrl**** -** Not really Gondor, just Arathorn. Still, I'm glad you liked it.

**seelenspiel** - Ah my dear, how I wish I could. I'm glad you liked it and I hope my short chapters don't turn you off.

**Bec** - So do I. lol. But alas, I am incapable of doing so. At least with this particular story.

**tmelange** - Thank you!

**tay-yy** - Thanks!

**cherryfaerie** - May I repeat, you're very observant. Though, I won't tell you why.

**azla** - lol. No worries, you aren't the first, and I doubt you'll be the last. I'm sorry to say though that my next story is more of a prequel than a sequel. But a sequel is in the future if people keep reading my stories. Thank you for the review!

**Estel Elven Enchantress** - Yeah, stupid know-it-all kings. And no worries, more angst is in the future.

**Vicki Turner** - That great, huh? Well thanks.

**Elenillor** - Thank you very much. And oh yeah, UPDATE YOUR STORY! hehe.

**Sparrow Greenleaf** - Thank you very much. I pride myself on my torture. *insert evil laugh here*

**Viresse0** - Ummm... okay.

**MalenyeBaggins** - You're welcome. I wish I could do it more often.

**Elven Kitten** - Well if you insist... ;)

**MG87 -** No, no vegetable please! I'm allergic. lol. And yes, torture, elves, angst. All very fun.

**Templa**** Otmena** - *says in voice resembling short green jedi* Die he must, yes. Oops, sorry, wrong trilogy. *grins*

**Nesuli** - Thank you. And I have no intention of stopping. But you can throw the popcorn anyway. *opens mouth wide* :)

**Kit Cloudkicker** - Thanks.

**Cosmic Castaway** - Yeah, I had thought about the rather handy effects it would have on our dear Brit. But alas, 'tis all in my head. And um yes... long. Sorry.

**Feagil** - No worries. All suggestions and/or tips are appreciated. I knew I should have double checked on those words. But, me being me, I thought I was right. Go figure. Thank you!

**Gwyn** - (if you haven't, go read the author's note at the beginning) Sorry for the confusion.

**Chilamala** - Hey, I'm always up for new reviewers. Don't care how late and/or often they post. And yeah, it's a twisted twisted fantasy that I'm sure would scare the crap out of poor Orlando, and it probably has Tolkien rolling over in his grave for what I put his beautiful character through, but still. Torture, good. :)

**lolly**** pop3** - Well thank you. I'm glad you liked both stories so much. And yes, sick. But fun. *grins*

**candidus****-lupus-full**** Moon** - I actually think The Wiggles is one of the more bearable children's shows. But after 19 hours, they look like deamons straight from hell. lol. And thank you for the review.

**Deana** - Yeah, I thought that was rather cruel of me. But what can you do? :)

**AllThatJaZZ1** - Thank you. I've gotten that reaction to his hands rather a lot. I myself have a fetish with hands (especially his), so it was rather hard for me to do to the poor thing. But I didn't think it would get such a reaction.

**Lady Aqawondel** - Thank you very much.

**kimmaree** - Ooh. So you've had the Wiggles a lot longer than I have. Here in the States they've only been on for about two years. I feel for ya babe! And thank you for the lovely compliment.


	14. Set In Motion

I just have 1 thing to say... It's about damn time!!!

*walks away grinning like an idiot as if she had won the Oscars too*

**' Leaves**** of Glass '**

**Chapter 14 - Set In Motion**

Legolas gripped the reins of the mare's bridle, the leather twisted and breaking after 3 weeks of torment at his hands. His body shook with apprehension and despair. They were now on the palace grounds, not 1 days ride to the palace carved into the mountains. Jesteph had left their group the day before yesterday, returning to his patrol; taking with him any chance Legolas had of warning his father. The Arandant king had made certain that he had never had a moment alone with the young warrior.

And now they were so close to the palace that Legolas could see the barracks of the outlying guard houses.

As Legolas brooded a sweet, clear horn blast sounded, drawing the prince's attention to the road in front of him. At the end of the path, where it split into 3 directions, there appeared a group of warriors, dressed in the garb of the palace guards. Banners were held, fluttering in the strong wind that had started that morning, proudly showing the colors of Mirkwood.

The king hissed for Legolas to move and the prince automatically nudged his horse on. Another horn sounded as they drew near. The guards parted, stepping into two straight rows, the banners held high. And as Legolas continued on, drawing closer and praying with each step that he could turn and run. One elf rode into the path created by the guards, a wide smile adorning his face. He rode a dappled mare and wore long robes of flowing green that shimmered to yellow in the wind; a small silver circlet made of tiny leaves circled his golden head.

Thranduil urged his horse into a gallop as he raced towards his son.

**

Strider watched the meeting between father and son. Saw the joy on Thranduil's face. And the forced joy on Legolas'.

The prince's body quivered as his father embraced him, whispered words into his ear, kissed his cheek. Legolas laughed happily, his smile glowing. He turned and introduced the Men at his back. The two kings bowed formally atop their steeds. Then the entire party moved off to the palace.

Strider turned and crept through the trees, taking a different path.

**

A young doe watched as two identical elves, as dark as night, road into the clearing where she grazed. Their eyes ever watchful for the abounding evils that besieged the woods, they held their weapons tightly, their bodies tense, waiting.

She lowered her head to the ground, pulling up another mouthful of dark grass, watching the ethereal creatures atop their mounts.

After a moment two more figures on horseback, these as golden as the sun, stepped into the clearing. They walked quickly to the others, their eyes watching as well. Soft words were passed and then the four left together. The deer returned to her meal, forgetting the brief disruption.

**

Legolas could hear the bustle of the banquet preparations from his chambers. Could hear joy in the songs that were being sung. Laughter filled the halls as the festivities were organized. Music rang out, echoing on the stone walls and the trees whispered their gladness at his return home.

But Legolas could feel none of this happiness. There had been such joy on his father's face. Such bliss in his eyes as Legolas had not seen since had had come home after his first imprisonment with the Arandant. His father had so lovingly brought his killer back into his home.

Tears stung the prince's eyes, sliding down his porcelain skin, seeping into the pillow his head lay on. His body had not stopped shaking since he first laid eyes on the palace grounds. His fate was sealed. His path chosen irreversibly the moment his father naively drew him into his arms.

Footsteps echoed outside his door. Shouts could be heard ringing out from the courtyard below his window. Happy voices, shouting their joy for the safe return of their prince.

Legolas turned to his side, away from the window. He saw the glint of his dagger, reflecting the golden light of the candles beside his bed. He longed to reach for the knife. To feel it's sharp blade pierce his breast. The weapon sat untouched on the table.

Not so long ago he had seen hope in death. But he had been selfish then, he knew. He had sought an end that would have caused other's great pain, only so that he could ease his own. But now... now his thoughts were only for those he loved.

A sob escaped the prince's throat and he did not try to suppress it. Memories of his childhood, spent so lovingly in his father's arm, came back to him and his body began to shake with sobs. Great wrenching cries, like he had not cried in centuries, were stifled in his pillow. Tears soaked through the fabric and wet his face.

His body ached, but not with a physical pain, and his heart felt at if it had torn. After a time his body lay still, his eyes closed as he was pulled mercifully into the realm of elven dreams.

But these dreams were not dreams at all. They were nightmares.

_The air was cold. So bitter cold that even the elven prince could feel it. Icy fog lay in a blanket throughout the forest, casting everything in silver-gray shadows. He stepped forward; felt something crunch beneath his feet. He looked down but could not see through the fog._

_He heard a vice call out, deep in the trees. A soft, seductive voice that drew him on. The voice whispered to him, beckoning him, sending exotic promises as he wove through the tangle of tree boughs. He came to a steam in the middle of the path he was walking. As he stepped on to it it cracked, thin tendrils like spider webs spreading out beneath his feet. He took another step, heard another crack._

_With each stride the stream cracked further, and as he pushed off onto the opposite shore it shattered and rushed away in a tumult of black water. He looked across the stream, but as he watched it swelled, the water flowing out over the far bank, turning the woods into a lake of tossing black foam._

_The voice beckoned to him again, and he turned, forgetting the lake, following the promises. His hands brushed cold trees as he walked, snapped the brittle twigs of bushes, letting them fall to the earth with an odd click. He stopped once to examine the noise but the voice called out louder and he forgot that as well._

_As he stepped between two closely grown trees, their cold, smooth sides sliding against his clothes, the fog cleared ahead of him and he stopped with a painful jerk. The voice stopped calling._

_The cold silver of the fog had been replaced with horrifying crimson red. All over, splattered across the bushes, spreading over the ground in pools, smeared across the smooth trees in terrible fingerprints, was dark red blood._

_In the center of the clearing lay a body, so twisted that the prince first thought it to be an orc. But orcs do not have red blood. Legolas stepped closer to the distorted form, bent to turn it onto its back with the heel of his palm. Familiar blue eyes stared up at him, surrounded by a halo of golden hair encircled with a silver crown made of tiny leaves._

Legolas screamed as he woke. His breath caught in his throat and he gagged. He clutched at his heart; he could feel it pounding against his chest. Visions of red swam through his eyes and he felt as if he was falling.

Suddenly there was a soft knock that rang in his ears. He turned slowly, his eyes focusing on the familiar carved wood of his door. He took a few deep breaths, urged his heart to slow. "Enter." He said, his voice strained, harsh. He rose slowly from his bed, wiping the last remains of tears from his face as the door opened.

One of the palace messengers walked in and bowed. "The banquet is ready, my lord." He said, smiling broadly.

Legolas nodded and dismissed him. 'This is the end.' He thought as he walked from the room.

**

Strider stooped beside a thick cluster of dark trees, dropping his pack to the ground, pulling a dark cloak from the top. He wrapped the stolen cloak around his shoulders, pulling the hood over his head. He hid his pack inside a thicket of bushes, covering it with dead leaves to hide the slightly off color, then quickly walked out into the clearing he had spotted earlier.

As expected a guard stopped him immediately. "What are you doing in this area, stranger?" The guard demanded.

'Pretense.' Strider said to himself, squaring his shoulders and facing the guard. "I went for a walk and got lost." Strider said, his hands finding his hips, his chin held high, daring the elf to ridicule in the haughty manner of the Men he was trying to impersonate.

"The palace is back that way." The elf said, pointing down a path on his right, his voice barely hiding the contempt for this Man. Strider nodded in thanks and quickly walked down the path. He passed a group of cloaked men, nodded at their greeting as he walked by. He followed another man into an entrance he remembered from his youth.

Once inside the palace, he walked slowly, mimicking the proud posture of the other cloaked men. He walked through the expansive halls, searching for the rooms he remembered. He took several wrong turns, had to backtrack to familiar ground before starting again.

As he rounded a corner, certain he had gotten lost again, he heard the thing he had feared most since he entered the stone fortress. "You!" A voice called out from behind him. He stopped quickly, but turned slowly, almost bored, in the arrogant manner of the Arandant. He immediately came to attention when he recognized one of the higher ranking officers of the Men. This man would know him not to be an equal. Strider just hoped he wouldn't know him. His hands started to shake and he clenched them tightly. He could not be found out yet.

"Sir." The young Ranger said, bowing in courtesy. Sweat started to bead on his forehead.

"The elves have asked that we not wear our hoods while in their palace." The officer spat, his voice clearly showing his contempt at being given orders from the elves. "Our king has demanded we pay them this courtesy." Until we have taken control, his eyes said.

"Yes, sir." Strider nodded. He lifted his hands, gripping the edges of his hood. He swallowed hard as he pushed the dark material from his head. Sweat trickled down his back, and his heart quickened. The officer watched as he pulled the hood away, then after a brief glance at Strider's face spun on his heels and walked away from the shaking Ranger.

Strider let out a shaky breath and laughed, though the sound held no mirth. After a moment he resumed his search, backtracking down the hall he was in and taking a different turn. What seemed an eternity later he finally found what he was searching for. The wing of the palace that held the younger prince's bed chambers. He had followed his nanny to these quarters many times as a child.

Strider stepped into the lee of a tall pillar, concealing himself in the shadows. His dark eyes were fixed on the door that led to the prince's room. His heart beat harder in his chest, and sweat slid down the side if his face. His hands began to shake.

_'I long for the trees.'_

The prince's words whispered through his head. Was he looking at the trees now? Had he felt the touch of the sun on his journey? Did he sing to the stars?

Strider took a deep breath and pulled away from the pillar. He nearly jumped when he heard a loud shout come from the prince's room. But before he could move, a slim figure rounded the corner and he quickly slid back into the shadows. The elf walked slowly, a beaming smile on his beautiful face. He stopped beside the prince's door, knocked. The door opened and Strider could see Legolas inside.  Soft words were spoken, then the messenger left, Legolas following behind him.

Strider cursed and backed down the hall.

**

"Those are the men, my lord." Avarilas informed the crown prince. The four elves were crouched in the thicket, some distance from the palace entrance. "The ones that told me they had no information on Legolas." Lindelen watched the cloaked men move about the palace grounds. They stood in small clusters, talking in soft voices, watching the elven guards warily.

"Perhaps they rescued him from some danger and are simply seeing him safely home." Elrohir suggested.

Elladan shook his head stiffly. "No. You know as well as I, brother, that Legolas would have no dealings with humans were he well enough to avoid it. Which clearly he is."

"Ai." Lindelen said, sinking further back into the shadowed bushes. "Something is indeed wrong with this."

"We can-"

"No." The prince said softly, cutting off his brother's guard. "They will do nothing yet, and neither will we."

"But if they-"

"The palace is too well guarded, and their forces are too far away to be of any help, they will not risk it. No. We will wait. I have an ill feeling about this." Lindelen stood and turned, heading back into the dark forest. "Come. I know of a more secret place we can watch."

**

Strider drew in a deep breath, willing his heart to stop beating so fast. He closed his eyes, nodding in silent answer when the man beside him asked if he was alright. Thankfully his hands had stopped shaking.

'How did I get myself into this mess?' He thought. His eyes opened slowly, turning to look over the room once more. He sat at the table of the king of Mirkwood, surrounded by cloaked men, trying not to show that his nerves were crumbling with each passing moment. He had been caught on his way back out of the palace and drug to the banquet in honor of Legolas' safe return. All the Men were to be present, he had been told.

'Any moment someone will realize they do not know me, and then my cover will be blown.' He did not fear for himself, for Thranduil was always been kind to him and he knew he was in no danger as long as the king was there. But should he be found out his plan would fail, and the elves would be turned into slaves.

The din in the large banquet hall died down and Strider looked up cautiously to see the king rise. The elf's lips started to move, but the young Ranger could hear nothing over the roaring in his ears.

**

Thranduil stood, tapping his wine glass with the tip of his knife. The hall fell to silence, all eyes turning towards him. "This banquet is not only for my son, though I am ever joyful at his safe, if increasingly late, return." He looked down and winked mischievously at Legolas who was seated on his right. Legolas returned the look with a stiff smile. "But it is also in thanks to these brave men, who have battled the dangers of my kingdom to bring him back to me. You are forever in my debt. Feast and be merry!"

He raised his glass in a toast and the cloaked men all cheered, doing the same. Thranduil sat down as the racket if the banquet returned.

"You make a spectacle of yourself, father." Legolas said, shaking his head, a loving smile pulling at his lips.

"Ai, my boy. And I love every minute of it." The king gave his son an impetuous grin. "Come, do as I have commanded and be merry. The night is young yet and you are far too somber!" Legolas rolled his eyes and raised his glass to his lips in a mock toast.

For many hours the night wore on, the men growing ever more 'merry' while Legolas watched anxiously from the sidelines. A small band was formed once the meal was consumed and dancing begun. Many elf maidens allowed themselves to be courted by the men, but always they found their way back to the arms of their kindred. Drinking games were played, the elves always the winners. And many, elves and men, made fools of themselves as the night turned to early morning. No one could throw a banquet quite like the elves.

When the sun had just barely begun rising over the forest, turning the dark leaves into brilliant shades of orange and red, finally people began to make their way to their beds. Time and again over the night Legolas had convinced his father to remain at the festivities, begging in his most innocent and undeniable way; he feared what would happen once the elder elf was alone.

But finally Thranduil would listen no more and he removed himself from his son's presence with a firm glare, retiring to his room. The moment he had disappeared into the vast halls Legolas tried to flee, stealing through the thinning crowd until he reached the other side of the room.

A hand grasped his arm and he heard a soft hiss in his ear. "Your father is to be dead before this hour is through." Then the hand slid from his arm and the cloaked king retreated into the crowd, watching with a dark smile as Legolas walked slowly from the room.

**

Strider saw the prince leave the banquet and he slipped out a side door. His hands started to shake again.

**To Be Continued...**

*is still floating on cloud nine* Wow. Another long chapter. I'm impressed with myself.

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my wonderful reviewers - **

**tmelange** - Yes, yes he has. But alas, you must wait even longer to figure out what it is. So sorry. *snickers and whispers to muses* No not. What? She can still hear me? Oh crap.

**Gwyn**- I do indeed understand such pet peeves. My mother has spent the last 3 years calling Viggo 'Viggo Morgenson'. It drives me up the wall. And yes, angst is a given.

**silvetoekee** - Yes he has. No he won't. Yes he is and I promise he will. Not soon, but eventually. Ummm... yeah, that.

**Templa**** Otmena** - Yes, cruel, evil. That's me to a tee. And you were right. The king had ordered him not to go anywhere. Poor thing. But at least he got to take out some of his frustrations. Thorn bushes and all that.

**Seelenspiel** - Always glad to hear.

**Viresse0** - Yes, I saw your story. I'll get to it ASAP. Been busy and what not. I actually feel really bad, cuz you always reply right away and it takes me days to get to your new chapters. I'm sorry.

**Vicki Turner** - Guess you'll just have to wait one more chapter. I'm so mean, no? :)

**Chilamala**** -** Yes, poor Jesteph had no idea what he was getting himself into when he wandered into my brain. I thought it was cute in a bittersweet sorta way though. At least Legolas knows his people still love him. Don't know of that's a good thing.

**Kept-Secret** - Guess you'll just have to wait. Sorry. ;)

**Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown** - Wow. Just... wow. That kept me quite entertained for a while, thank you. Most people just put a 'loved everything' in their review. I've never had anyone go back and review every single chapter. Especially since there were so many to review. You really made my week with all of your wonderful praises. Thank you so much.

**candidus****-lupus-full**** Moon** - Yes, Stanley is a good one. I'm just glad they've never seen the Boobah's. I don't think I could handle that. They're even worse than the Telletubbies. I didn't even think that was possible.

**cherryfaerie** - It was the 'killing' one. And yeah, the king would never lower himself so much as to do grunt labor like clearing paths. Good try though. I guess you'll just have to wait to see how he does it. *grins evilly*

**MelayneBaggins** - Guess you're gonna have to wait longer. Sorry. Sorta. :)

**MG87** - Angst. Yes, angst. Always. And by the way, in case you didn't notice, I used your title suggestion. So obvious a title. I felt kinda stupid that I didn't think of it myself. Thanks for pointing it out to me.

**Tsuki**** no Lomelinde** - Thank you and... if by soon you mean once every week, yes, yes I will.

**Kit Cloudkicker** - Sorry babe, but no. I've actually gotten this prediction several times, I even toyed with the idea for a while, but what I have in store is so much more... cruel. *laughs maniacally*

**tay-yy** - Yes it is. And a good day to you.

**LalaithoftheBruinen**- Thank you. And bunnies back to you too. *shrugs*

**AlmatarioofMirkwood** - Yes, cliffies. How I love them.

**Estel Elven Enchantress** - Eh. Not so much main. I just love them so they're there. They will be helping though.

**Shinigami061** - Well thank you very much.

**Cosmic Castaway** - *rubs butt* *kicks you* Brat. I should make you wait. But I'm afraid of you, so I didn't. *runs and hides*

**Elven Kitten** - Thank you very much.


	15. The Monarchs of Mirkwood

*dances* Over 300 reviews! I feel so very very loved. *blows kisses to all her reviewers* You guys rock!

This website is driving me crazy though. I didn't get any of your reviews until **Thursday**. I knew they were there because the counter kept going up, but I couldn't see them, nor did they send them to my e-mail for days. It made me very mad. I really hope the problem is fixed.

Also, I've been informed that Author's Alerts have been on the fritz as well. Just to remind everyone, I update every Sunday night. EVERY Sunday night. Whether ff.net tells you I did or not, I did.

And one more thing... I have hired 5 bodyguards to be around me at all times, 3 of which are former Secret Service agents. They won't let you kill me. And I know you all will want too once you finish this chapter.

**" Leaves of Glass "**

**Chapter 15 - The Monarchs of Mirkwood**

Legolas walked slowly along the paths that wound through the gardens of Mirkwood's palace. The sun was beginning to peer over the thick wall of the forest. His breath hung in the air.

He met no one on his walk, for all were either dancing of sleeping. Pebbles from the path moved beneath his feet but made no sound. A bird called to its mate in the distance. Long limbs of shadowy trees reached out for him as he passed, begging him to enter their dark depths. As he walked ever closer to his destination tears slid from his pale eyes in steady streams and he did not wipe them away.

Unknown to the young prince four figures watched him from the trees, following his every step. He stopped suddenly, his body shaking; his blood felt cold in his veins. His head turned, sending a cascade of golden hair around his shoulders as his eyes found the window at the topmost of the palace. The large window was open, thin curtains billowing in the soft wind that blew through the forest.

A tear slid down his cheek and pooled in the crease of his mouth; his lips opened and he could taste the salt. Then he began to climb. One pale, flawless hand reached up and grasped the vines that climbed the stone wall to the lowest balcony. The other followed, then his nimble feet, and he was slowly making his way to the stone outcropping.

The four figures watched, confused as the prince reached the first balcony. An animal screamed in the forest, its dying breath swallowed by the forest, but the golden elf did not even pause. One bright figure stepped from the shadows of the forest, the others hissing for him to return, and stared up at his brother.

'Where do you go, Leaf?' He asked as Legolas reached the second story balcony. 'What are you doing?' As Lindelen watched, Legolas reached the third floor, then the fourth, going ever upward until he reached the top, the last balcony.

"_Adar_." Lindelen whispered. And then he was climbing, his friends shouting for him to return. _Warn the king_, the trees had said. And he knew not how, but he now knew why.

Before Legolas had even cleared the balcony Lindelen was reaching the second floor; Elladan, Elrohir, and Avarilas had begun to climb. Each step up felt like a mountains height, each thin vine turned to oil beneath his hands. The crown prince had climbed that path many times in his many millennia, but never so quickly, nor with such desperation.

When he reached the edge of his father's balcony he swung himself over the edge and nearly dove through the open doors. The sight that met him caught his breath and stopped him in his tracks, for all its sinister beauty.

The youngest prince of Mirkwood stood poised over the sleeping form of his father. The sun shone through the open doors, casting its half-light throughout the room, shining like liquid gold over the prince's fluttering hair, set fire to his pale skin, sparked in his eyes like a thousand stars. And it turned the straight, silver edge of the knife in his hands blood red.

The knife was held just inches from the king's heart, held by hands that shook violently, by a body that heaved in trembling breaths, reflected in the streaming tears that glinted in the light.

His own baby brother, the elfling he had held in this very room for the first time when he was but ten minutes in this world, looked like a god come to life; come to take his sacrifice.

"Legolas, _daro_!" The elder prince's senses returned at Avarilas' call; he blinked once at the ethereal being with deadly intentions then shot across the room, knocking him to the floor with a loud thud as their father, wakened by Avarilas' shout, rose from his bed. **(... , stop!")**

Lindelen rose quickly from the floor, standing over his little brother, his chest heaving, the knife held tightly in his hands. Legolas screamed from the ground and lunged to his feet, throwing himself at his father. But he fell back again with another cry as Elladan's solid body collided with his, sending him reeling to the floor.

Legolas staggered to a kneeling position, the other five elves watching in a tirade of emotions. "Legolas, what is-?"

"Kill me!" Legolas shouted, his hands scratching at the stone floor. "Kill me!"

"Legolas, what-?"

The young prince threw himself at the cluster of protectors that had surrounded his father. He grabbed Elrohir's hands, wrapping around the hilt of the knife held, yanking with all his strength. "Kill me!" He shouted again. "Kill me, I beg you! Kill me!"

"Legolas, _farn ned sen_!" Thranduil shouted as he pushed past the barrier the younger elves had created. "_An man caro le ped-sen t_?" **(... , enough of this!" "Why do you speak this way?")**

A despairing cry filled the room and Legolas dove for his father again, his hands reaching for his neck. His father, caught by surprise, did not fight back. Slender fingers wrapped around his neck, blocking off his airway, trying to twist until the delicate bones snapped.

Suddenly, both elves were pulled from their feet. Legolas was released from the strong arms that held him, sending his sprawling across the room to land with a thud against the open door. Strider reached out quickly to grab the falling king, pulling him into his embrace and dragging him away from the stunned elves. 

'Play dead, my lord, I beg you. For your son.' The Ranger hissed desperately into Thranduil's ear, then the king's head snapped to the side, a sickening crack filling the room as his body fell limply to the floor at the young human's feet.

Five pairs of eyes landed on him, mixed with so many palpable emotions that Strider was nearly knocked to the ground. Then each gaze slid to the floor and fell on the motionless body of the king. Tears streamed anew from Legolas' eyes and they were suddenly filled with such flagrant despair that it made Strider sick. The youngest prince let out a keening wail, terrifyingly loud and filled with absolute pain, that shook the room and sent the elves to their knees. The trees outside the window roared in response, a flock of birds alighting from their branches, screeching in anger as they whirled overhead and off into the forest.

Then Legolas was gone, lurching to his feet and stumbling down the hallway.

"What have you done, Estel?" But the question, Strider never knew who asked, was not answered. All eyes in the room snapped, wide open with confusion and surprise, to the king who had sat up from his place on the floor. He then stood quickly spinning around to face the Ranger. Strider dropped the two broken halves of the pheasant bone he had been clutching in his hand.

"Why did my son try to kill me?" Thranduil demanded, ignoring the confused looks he was receiving from the four elves still on their knees.

Strider glanced down at them, then up again to the king. "I haven't time to tell you. There is a pack, hidden in the bushes in the east garden. There is a letter inside, it will tell you everything." He turned to his brothers, his gray eyes filling with tears. "There is one for Ada as well, please see that he gets it." And then he left, racing away in the same direction that the prince had gone.

**

Strider had thought when the prince had left that he was going to his room to take his rest for the night. He did not expect the Arandant king to follow through with his plan so quickly. Then he had heard the shouts from the king's bedroom and knew he had been wrong. He had expected to see the prince in a struggle with his father, not the two other Mirkwood elves and his own brothers.

Strider spun around a corner as he raced through the hallways of the Mirkwood palace, nearly tripping in his haste, as he sought out the room he knew the prince had gone to. Tears streamed down his rough cheeks as he thought of his brothers and he angrily brushed them away. He would mourn for his family later, now he had a job to finish. A job that would turn him into an exile, never again to see the home or the people he loved.

He spun around another corner and braced his hand on the wall to keep from falling. His feet pounded on the stone floor, echoing through the palace like the beat of drums. His legs took him quickly through the winding halls until he reached the door he was looking for.

He stopped outside the heavy, intricately carved structure, stilling his breathing, the air burning in his lungs after his race through the palace, and listened.

"Is it done?" The dark voice of the Arandant king demanded.

There was a long pause, then, "Yes." That one word held in it more pain than should exist in the world.

"Good. Tomorrow you will inform your people that your brother killed your father in the night..." Strider heard the soft ring of metal being pulled from a sheath. "And while you fought him bravely..." The Ranger heard a hiss of breath and a satisfied grunt. "... and were wounded in the effort, you could not save your father, nor capture your traitor brother. And thus your people will turn to you to help see them through this horrible tragedy and betrayal. And then they will belong to me."

A soft sob reached Strider's ears and he knew he had heard enough. He pushed the door open with enough force to send the heavy wood crashing against the stone wall and walked quickly to the other side of the room to stand between Legolas and the king.

Legolas stared up at the Ranger's back, clutching the arm where the king had cut a deep gash. His body shook and tears streamed down his white cheeks, soaking into the damp patch in the collar of his banquet clothes. 

"Well, well." The Arandant king sneered, looking Strider over with a judging glance. "Looks like you have a few surprises up you sleeve, slave. Have you come to play hero?"

Strider's dark gray eyes met the pitch black of the king's and a dark smile spread over his lips. "Yes." He whispered. Then he turned and knelt beside the prince, taking his wounded arm in his hand, gently brushing away the tears that slid down his face. "_Le adar cuinar._ _No na sîdh, nin caun_." He whispered, the dark smile turning to kindness as the Arandant king watched. "_Ten na-or._" **("Your father lives. Be at peace, my prince." "It is over.")**

Then he thrust his hunting knife into the prince's stomach and watched in sadness as the pelf's eyes filled with joy and his body slid to the floor, his hands wrapping around the blade imbedded in his stomach. Dark red blood spread around Strider's dagger, seeping through Legolas' fingers in tiny rivulets, and the Ranger smiled as tears slid from his eyes.

**To Be Continued... **

*runs away screaming* My muses made me do it!!!!!!!!!!!!

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my lovely reviewers who hopefully still love me - **

**silvertoekee -** Yes, I'm sure it would suck to be ordered to kill your own father. Though I'm sure we've all wanted the excuse every now and then. ;P

**Deana - **Yeah, I'm not very happy with ff.net right now. Though, they do a wonderful job most of the time, but I want my reviews darn it!

**Estel Elven Enchantress -** Yes, though we had nothing to do with the movies besides adding a little (okay, a lot) more money to the already high $ count, we still feel so very very proud. Go figure.

**Vicki Turner -** Do you still think that?

**Kept-Secret -** Do not fret, patience is not one of the virtues I posses either. And yes, cloud nine is very lovely. You should pay it a visit some time. And ummm... at least you got all your answers ummm... answered. *grins*

**Viresse0 -** Ummm... yeah. Bad endings. I agree. Please don't kill me! I still have to review your stories, which I'm going to go do just as soon as I post this. I'm so sorry it's taken me so long!!

**Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown -** Yeah, I think that would constitute as ruined, don't you? And yes, The Hobbit. Yes yes. But only if they get Ian MeKellen to play Gandalf. If they can't, then he just shoudn't bother.

**Ella-elbereth7 -** Goodness, bowing. *blushes*

**Gwyn -** I suppose this is just going to put you straight into an insane asylum huh?

**Coolio02 -** Yes. Evil, evil king. Grrr.

**LalaithoftheBruinen -** Thank you!

**Templa Otmana -** Oh I will. Yes, yes. I will.

**SilverKnight7 -** Okay.

**Aranna Undomiel - **All 14 at once? Dang girl! And I have sent you an e-mail with the website you asked for. I'm really sorry it took me so long to get t to you.

**Kit Cloudkicker -** Yeah. All stories with fluff should have warnings. *grins*

**Elven Kitten -** Thank you.

**Sparrow Greenleaf -** Ummm... oops? *runs and hides*

**MG87 -** Ooh, Angsty-Legolas deprivation. That's the worst. Which is one of the reasons I write my own stories. If I want angst, angst I get. And I don't care when you review. Just as long as you do. *grins*

**tmelange - **Ew. I hate pins and needles.


	16. The King of the Arandant

*laughs hysterically* You guys are so funny. *hides behind elven army* Please don't kill me.

And just for all of you who didn't understand, yes. Aragorn stabbed Legolas. I was trying to be all dramatic in the end, but you people wouldn't let me. I rewrote the ending so you'll all understand. Here...

"_Le adar cuinar._ _No na sîdh, nin caun_." He whispered, the dark smile turning to kindness as the Arandant king watched. "_Ten na-or._" **("Your father lives. Be at peace, my prince." "It is over.")**

Then he thrust his hunting knife into the prince's stomach and watched in sadness as the pelf's eyes filled with joy and his body slid to the floor, his hands wrapping around the blade imbedded in his stomach. Dark red blood spread around Strider's dagger, seeping through Legolas' fingers in tiny rivulets, and the Ranger smiled as tears slid from his eyes.

*walks away grumbling about silly people who don't understand the essence of drama*

:)

**" Leaves of Glass "**

**Chapter 16 - The King of the Arandant**

The world was far too still. The paths of Mirkwood's gardens were empty save for the two Noldor elves that walked their stone ways. The sun shone brightly overhead, glaring down on the twins, heating the forests. The birds in the trees barely made any sound. Elladan and Elrohir watched the dark forests warily.

"It is far to quiet in these woods, brother." Elrohir said quietly, almost afraid to break the silence for fear of the storm it would bring.

"Ai." The elder twin agreed. "Something is not right. The same something I believe, that is not right with our beloved prince."

"I'm glad Thranduil agreed to remain in his rooms with Lindelen and Avarilas."

Elladan nodded. "The only time in his long life the king of Mirkwood has ever set aside his stubbornness, and I believe it was the best time to do so."

"Ai. Look." Elrohir stepped from the path into the dark woods. "Estel's pack."

Elladan pulled the travel pack from the dense bush, brushing away the debris. He flipped the top open and pulled the two white parchments from the top. _Adar_, one read in smooth elvish script. _Taur Thranduil_, the other said. Elrohir took the latter and broke the purple sealing wax. His eyes scanned over the neat words. With each passing line his eyes grew wider, his began beating faster.

"What is it, El?"

Elrohir turned wide, frightened eyes to his brother. "We must find Legolas. Now."

**

For a moment Strider couldn't bear to pull away from Legolas' pain-filled eyes. Tears swam in their deep depths, running from the corners to mix with the blood that had filled his mouth to run out in a small stream down his cheek. Ragged breaths convulsed through the prince's body, but other than that he lay perfectly still. He blinked up at the Ranger, a small smile forming around the grimace on his face.

Strider nodded solemnly; then he stood quickly, dragging his eyes from the prince and spun around to face the king. The dark man was laid out flat on the floor, writhing in pain as he clutched at a wound that wasn't there. Strider stormed over to the dying man and placed one booted foot in the center of his stomach.

"Tell me how to break the link." He demanded icily, his gray eyes flashing with a tirade of emotions as he stared down at the man that had taken his friends life, for that was how he was determined to look at it. For now.

Dark red blood an identical line to the blood that stained the prince's skin, ran from the king's mouth. He sneered and spat at Strider. The Ranger grimaced and wiped blood from his face. He glared down at the man, his anger rising, and put pressure on his foot, digging his heel into the man's stomach. The king screamed; Strider flinched at the sharp cry that came from behind him.

"If he dies, you die with him." Strider sneered, pressing down harder. The king howled, writhing beneath his foot. "Tell me how to break the link!" A little more pressure.

The dark man screamed again, his voice gargling around the blood in his mouth. He lifted one shaking hand and pointed to the bed, at the dark cloak that was draped across the middle. "P-Pocket. In my...pock... I have... to drink it... I..."

Strider pulled away and ran to the bed, feeling through all the inner pockets until he found a small glass bottle, its wide mouth stopped with a cork. 'Torlin didn't know about this.' Strider thought, as he walked back to the dying king.

He pulled the cork from the top and crouching beside the dark man's head, pouring half of the liquid directly into his mouth. The king gagged, rolling onto his side, most of the liquid coughed out onto the floor. Strider kicked his shoulder, forcing the man back onto his back, then knelt beside him, one knee digging into his arm. He pinched the man's nose and poured the rest of the liquid into his mouth, forcing him to swallow so that he could breathe.

Once the liquid had been swallowed Strider stood and backed away from him. The king sputtered as he lay on the floor, blood dripping from his mouth, gagging on the mix of copper and sweet from the potion. He gasped, shook sweat from his brow. After a moment he sat up, wiping the blood from his face, taking in deep breaths.

"Is it done?" Strider asked as the king felt his stomach where the pain had been. He nodded.

Strider nodded back, then he took two steps closer to the king, pulling another knife from his boot as he moved. When he reached the dark man, the man he hated more than he thought he could ever have hated another living being, and he thrust the blade into the dark man's shoulders, piercing his heart. He took no joy as the man screamed when he twisted the blade. The Ranger lifted one foot and pushed on the king's body, pulling as he fell to the floor, his dark eyes open in surprise, but never to see again.

Strider spared no second look to the evil man, to the man's whose life he had taken. He spun around quickly and raced back to Legolas' side, kneeling beside the dying prince, cradling his head in his hands. The golden locks turned red with the king's blood.

"You're... very tal... talented..." Legolas gasped. His eyes were lowered, almost shut; his tears had run dry.

"Hush now, _nin caun_." Strider said softly. He laid the prince's head gently in his lap, then he pulled the cloak from his shoulders, tearing a large section from the bottom. He wrapped the cloth around the wound, stopping the blood flow. "I'm going to get you help. I tried not to make it fatal, but I..." **(... , my prince.")**

The Ranger's reassuring words trailed off as a dark figure stepped out of the shadows across the room. Strider immediately reached for the knife he had returned to his boot. The man was clapping, a sneer twisting his lips.

"Very impressive, my young friend. Very impressive." He said. Legolas jerked in his lap.

Strider recognized the man; he was one of the lower captains that had traveled with the king. He was older, his short hair graying at the temples; he was short in height but well muscled. He looked like any other of the men that had traveled with the king.

"Who are you?" Strider demanded, his dagger clutched tightly in his hand. One of Legolas' bloody hands reached up, grasping for his wrist. His breathing became erratic and harsh. Strider stilled him when he tried to rise.

The man across the room laughed. "You recognize me, do you, prince?" The elf's eyes darkened as he watched the man; he tried to gain Strider's attention but did not have the strength. As all his energy was drained away his body went slack in Strider's hold and he growled in frustration.

"My name is Orin and it seems, after all, that you are not a murderer, prince. But your friend is." The man walked over to the corpse that was bleeding out on the stone floor and prodded at it with one foot. "Though in truth he does me a favor. Mallekin was becoming rather obtrusive. Seemed to forget rather often lately that he was not the king of the Arandant."

Strider sputtered, his eyes widening in surprise. "He's not the king?!"

"No, of course not." The man said, turning from the body to look into Strider's stunned eyes. "I am." The man looked down at Strider, one eyebrow raised, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

"You... You?"

"Yes. Me. What, you think a true king would simply tell people in hostile territory that he is the king? No, I would have every assassin in the area out for my head. 7 were killed attempting to kill Mallekin while we were on the outskirts of the forest." The man, the king, had begun walking around the room as he talked, picking up items that decorated the ample space. "Mallekin was just a pawn. A puppet I controlled with magic. When my kingdom is established I would have killed him and taken my place as king. You've saved me that step. And now that I have the most powerful army in all of Arda at my fingertips I need not worry for my safety."

Legolas' eyes shot open and he tried to rise again, Strider gently held him back down. He began to absently run his fingers through the elf's long hair, soothing the exhausted creature. "You do not have the elves. Their king still lives. I told them what you are going to do." He said confidently.

The king turned away from the statuette he was looking at. "Did you? Hmm." He turned to the shadows that he had emerged from just minutes ago. "Seize him."

Strider watched two elves step from the darkness. Their bodies were shaking, their hands were clenched into fists, and their faces spoke of pain and denial. But their feet brought them to Strider's side and their hands wrapped in vice grips around his arms.

As the Ranger was pulled to his feet Legolas' head slid from his lap and fell limply to the ground with a dull thud. The dark blue eyes of the elves turned to look at their beloved prince as he moaned in pain.

"Ignore the prince." Orin demanded. Strider could feel the tension in the elves' bodies as their eyes slid from Legolas to the man that controlled them. "You see, my young Dunedain, the poison that Mallekin gave to your prince was in the food that was served this night. They all answer to me now. Kill him." The king said, waving absently at the Ranger.

The elves immediately began to drag him away. As they pulled him from the room his eyes saw Legolas struggle to get to his feet, saw the prince stumble and land again on his wounded stomach, saw the defeat in his eyes as he reached out for his last lifeline. But his heart saw nothing but the ruin of the people and the world he loved.

*

Once the Ranger had been pulled from the room, failure in his eyes, Orin turned to Legolas. "Now, prince. I still need you, so let's see about this wound, shall we?"

**To Be Continued...**

Okay, it's short, but it's early. And I fixed it! See? See? I fixed him. He's not dead! *hides* I know that was mean, but I had to. I just had to. You don't understand. But I'll never ever ever ever do it again I promise. *runs away screaming*

**To my reviewers who are so easily manipulated *laughs hysterically* *runs away* -**

**silvertoekee**** -** Hahahaha! Yes, I am evil and darn proud of it. But it's better, see.

**evil spapple pie -** Well, it was the case. So back off. *hides behind bodyguards*

**Templa**** Otmena -** Yeah, I think I may actually see an ending in the near future. Wow.

**Hellmarie**** -** Well don't cry. Goodness. He's better okay? *hands you a tissue*

Arrana Undomiel - Naughty, yes. A murderer, no. I could never kill off our dear prince.

**Estel Elven Enchantress -** *steals back a few chill pills from MG87* *hands them to you* Was that regrettable?

**Alaria**** -** Oh, see, that's cute cuz you said gut-wrenching and I gutted Legolas. *giggles* *walks contemplating great thing*

**Slea**** -** Yeah, what is that about us? I just love to torture my reviewers. *grins*

**Lyn -** Oh, technicalities. In a world of magic none of that matters. And ummm... what in the world did you mean in those last few lines? Lose... Rode... Huh? I'm so confused!

**Silvertongue**** -** That's a good question. Why?

**sheelf2 -** I agree whole heartedly about the Oscars. Especially the Sean Astin part. To quote a friend of mine 'He carried him up the mountain!'. It made me very mad that none of them got a nod for acting. And thank you so much for all your lovely comments. I do fully intend on finishing, and I'm glad to hear you don't want it too end. And no worries on the long reviews. The longer the better, actually.

**Deana -** Please see note at the top. *grumbles some more* Just kidding hun. I think maybe, maybe mind you, I was being a bit too vague. Oh well.

**Gozilla**** -** Thank you!

**Kept-Secret -** *cackles* I'll eat your chicken for breakfast. No wait, lunch. No, roast chicken sounds really good and that's more of a dinner meal. Wait, what were we talking about?

**Chilamala**** -** He stabbed him cuz he would rather die than kill his family, and even though he thought his father was dead, his brother was still alive. And it was the only way to get to the king. The not-king. The... whatever.

**Angel Ecstasy -** Worshipers. Wow. *sits down on throne* Please continue.

**Gwyn**** -** I take great pleasure in confusing you yes. But, me being the nice person that I am I had to go and fix it.

**Viresse0 -** *hands you a piece of paper* This is a court order for Anger Management therapy. Go now. *hides*

**Vicki Turner -** Hmmm. I think you missed the more important issue here. I PRETENDED TO KILL LEGOLAS!! Did you not notice? Were you too shocked to say anything? What? You were the only person that did not mention Legolas' supposed death, let alone try to kill me. You took me quite by surprise.

**cheryfaerie**** -** Elves don't scar. I think. But I did kill the king. Sort of. Whatever.

**LalaithoftheBruinen**** -** Thank you.

**Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown -** Hands you a tissue. All better now?

**Coolio02 -** Hell yeah! *grins*

**Nesuli**** -** Thank you very much. *walks away nibbling tasty cookie*

**MG87 -** Gasp! I listened. I haven't done an early update in a while. Happy now?

**Elven Kitten -** Oh, I dare alright. I dare.

**Sparrow Greenleaf -** Really? I'd think at this point you'd pretty much be expecting something like this..

**Cosmic Castaway -** Ummm.... I think you need to go to Anger Management with Viresse0. Yup. I do. *tries to grab gun* *runs away screaming when I fail*

**candidus****-lupus-full Moon -** Thank you.

**azla**** -** Never! And thank you!

**temalange**** -** I don't do cheesy dream sequences. Is this better though?

**tay**** -** But of course.


	17. Satisfaction

*gasp* Two early updates in the same week. And it's a long chapter too. *looks up at the sky* Nope, no flying pigs. Wow. This is amazing. Ooh, and look! I got my very first ever flame! See see! I'm so happy. Look what it said!

_From: a random boo_

_I've never been so distracted by so many comas in my life! @ @ My Eru, did it ever start to get at me, like, I can not believe, that it would seem, that a little black swish, in it's smallness, how so bitterly it could interfere!_

Isn't that cool. Out of 508 reviews between both my stories, I finally got my first flame! I'm so excited!

And also, there's a very important author's note at the bottom. And I know you'll all be very eager to review after you've read my wonderful new chapter, but please don't skip it.

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 17 - Satisfaction**

Strider didn't fight as the two elves drug him down the hall. He made no sound, no attempt to save his own life. He simply allowed himself to be pulled away to his death.

He had failed.

Those words echoed through his mind, breaking his spirit with each step away from the prince. The prince whom he had killed, for nothing. He had failed. And now all the world would be destroyed at the hands of an unwilling army. He had failed. He stared down at his blood stained hands. He had failed.

As the two elves pulled him around a corner Estel heard a familiar shout, is head snapping up just in time to see two dark haired elves running down the hall.

"Estel!" Elladan shouted again, as he rounded the corner. The two elves that were holding his human brother made no effort to outrun them. The twins caught them quickly, pulling the flaxen elves' hands from Strider's arms, only to duck away as they turned and struck out at them.

"What are they doing, Estel?" Elrohir demanded as he spun around one of the Mirkwood elves, pinning one arm behind his back. With the other the blonde elf tried to reach for the young human.

"Don't hurt them, they can't help it." Strider demanded, dancing out of reach of the other drugged elf as Elladan struggled to hold him back. "They've been drugged, like... Just bind them and bring them with us."

The twins obeyed without question and the three moved out of the hall into an empty room, struggling to keep the bound elves away from Estel. Though it was not very difficult. The looks on the two elves' faces seemed almost glad that their task had been interrupted. Strider apologized to the struggling creatures, even as they reached out to hurt him, as they were locked into the bathroom that was adjoined to the room they had entered.

"What is going on, Estel?" Elladan demanded, while at the same time his brother said, "Where is Legolas?"

At the mention of the prince's name Strider's resolve crumbled and he fell to his knees sobbing. He held out his blood stained hands for his brothers to see.

"I'm so sorry." He cried, his body rocking slowly back and forth, his hands trembling. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Elladan knelt beside his shaking brother and pulled him into his arms, holding him close as he cried. He knew the heartbroken words were not for them.

**

Legolas watched the king pace back and forth across the dead man's room. The bitter taste of the controlling poison still lingered on his tongue. He belonged to the king again. One delicate, bloody hand slid under his tunic to feel the place where the knife wound should have been. There was nothing there now save his blood, the fatal wound healed by magic.

"You were the voice in my head." He said softly, an accusation not a question.

"Yes." The king stated shortly.

Minutes passed in silence, the only sound the king's constant shuffle across the stone floor.

"Why did you save me?" Legolas asked after a while.

The king stopped and stared at him. "Why indeed, prince. I'll tell you." He took a few steps closer to Legolas; the elf matched each stride with a step back. His hips met the edge of the desk and he could go no farther. "What greater show of power is there, than having the prince of the people I have conquered as my personal slave? You, elfling, will be a testament to all the other nations that will fall to my control."

The king was now so close Legolas could feel his breath in his hair, feel the heat from his body. "You cannot win." He said, his mouth set in defiance.

But his eyes, the king thought in satisfaction, his eyes would always show defeat. "With your people as my army... I cannot loose."

Orin laughed and walked away from the shaking elf. "Be silent now, prince. I have things to think of."

**

"You did what you thought was best." Elrohir said softly, once Strider had calmed down.

"But I did it for nothing." The young Ranger said, his voice thick with his tears.

"You couldn't have known." Elladan tried to reassure his brother.

Strider pulled away from his loving embrace, tears filling his eyes again. "Why do you not hate me?" He demanded. He stood and walked to the other side of the room, wrapping his arms protectively around himself. "I killed your friend. I killed an elf. Why don't you hate me?"

"You are our brother. We-"

"He was your friend long before I was your brother. You should hate me!" Strider nearly shouted, cutting off Elrohir's words.

The two elves looked at each other, a deep sadness in their eyes, then back to their brother. They forgot sometimes how impossibly young he was. "No, Estel. We should not hate you. You have done nothing wrong." Elladan said softly. "Legolas begged for death. He is happy now, for his family is safe. You want us to hate you because you hate yourself."

Strider couldn't hold back a sob. "You sound like, _Adar_." He said softly.

The twins slowly moved forward, as if they were approaching a skittish animal. When Strider did not try to run again they pulled him into a comforting embrace. He leaned into their arms, all his energy spent.

"Come." Elladan said after a while. "We must go find Thranduil and the others." Strider's eyes went wide and his knees threatened to buckle as his brothers pulled him from the room. What would the prince's family say?

**

Strider stood outside on the balcony watching the forest. The sun was still shining brightly over the ruined kingdom of Mirkwood. The birds in the trees still sang. The rivers and streams still flowed. Strider did not think it was right that the world should go on as normal when such a tragedy had occurred.

Inside the room 5 elves mourned for the prince.

'I have failed him for the last time.' Avarilas thought. Silver tears slid from his eyes and he no longer tried to wipe them away. 'His death is my doing.'

'I should have gotten to him sooner.' Lindelen stared at his hands, imagining them wrapped around the king's throat. 'He will pay for what he has done.'

'He died to protect me.' Thranduil fought the tears that threatened to fall once again as he stared at the portrait of his youngest child that hung on the wall above his bed. Beside it was a similar one of his wife, dead nearly as long as Legolas had been alive. On the other side was a picture of his oldest son, now all he had left in the world. 'It should have been the other way around.'

"We know how to reverse the poison." Elrohir said after an eternity of silence. "But we must get to the king. We must have his blood."

"How are we going to do that?" Lindelen asked, his hands uncurling as he looked up at the Noldor. "He has our entire kingdom under his control."

Elladan shook his head. "No. He just thinks he does."

The three Mirkwood elves turned to the elder twin, confused. "The two of you." Elladan clarified, pointing at Lindelen and Avarilas. "He believes you both to have fled, remember? He has no idea that you've returned, nor what you look like. Should you enter his rooms, he'd think you only to be two more elves that he has control of."

Lindelen brightened at the thought of personally killing the Arandant king. "And because he believes himself to be perfectly safe, since all living creatures in the palace are under his control..."

"He won't protect himself until it's too late." Avarilas finished, as dark glint filling his eyes.

"Precisely." All the elves smiled and they began to plan.

**

"But I want a part in this." Strider demanded as Avarilas and Lindelen prepared to leave Thranduil's rooms.

"I am sorry, brother. You cannot." Elrohir said once again, cringing at the hurt in the young human's eyes.

Strider flinched when Thranduil stepped up beside them, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. He still could not believe that the king did not blame him for his son's death. Thranduil motioned for Elrohir to leave and the younger elf obeyed, leaving Strider alone with the king.

"My lord, I-" Strider closed his mouth abruptly when Thranduil waved him silent.

"I do not blame you for my son's death, child. Please believe that." He said softly.

"But I-" His teeth clicked together when he closed his mouth again under Thranduil's stern gaze.

"What you did took great courage, child. And it was only as a true friend that you did it." Thranduil sighed softly, his eyes closing in pain. "And considering how my son has treated you all your short life, it amazes me that you did not leave him long ago. You suffered many hardships for someone who cared nothing for you. For that I thank you."

"He was a good person." Strider said softly, truth showing plainly in his voice.

"Ai. He was." Thranduil sighed again, his hand squeezing the Ranger's shoulder gently. "And for that he will be remembered." The king turned to leave, but added a final word of comfort. "Do not feel too badly that you cannot go, child. Neither can I."

**

Orin turned back to Legolas before he left the room. "Clean yourself up. Then stay here until the dinner hour. At that time come to the banquet hall. I will establish my command in your kingdom then." Then he left, a smile of utter satisfaction on his face.

**

It had taken Lindelen and Avarilas much longer than they expected to find the Arandant king. They had to avoid the elves that roamed the palace, for they did not know they had returned and would surely alert the entire kingdom should they find out. They all seemed so normal as they went about their daily tasks. it was hard to believe that they were trapped under the control of an evil king.

But thanks to their roundabout way the two elves did not need to go to the king's rooms where they would surely see the body of their beloved brother and friend. For on their way they spotted the man Strider had described walking purposefully through the halls.

They followed him until he reached a deserted hallway. When they were sure no one could hear him they moved. They walked quickly through the hall until they were in front of him, then they turned blocking his way. Neither could hide the rage that they felt.

The king looked up at them, anger flaring in his eyes. "Move." He demanded.

When neither elf obeyed his command the color drained from his face and his mouth fell open. "Move." He repeated. But his voice held only fear. When they did not obey for the second time he turned to flee.

But before he could move far two iron grips grabbed his arm, another clamped over his mouth to stop his screams, and he was drug into a dark, empty room.

**

As Legolas was bathing, following the king's command, he suddenly felt a wave of fear crash over him like a rockslide. He gasped, gripping the edge of the bathing tub, his heart pounding. He could feel ghostlike hands wrap around his arms; another close over his mouth, stopping the scream that tried to break free. He felt like he was drowning in an empty fear.

**

After a moment a flame exploded, illuminating the silent storeroom. Lindelen set the candle down on an empty shelf and walked over to the man who was still struggling in Avarilas' grasp. Orin struck out at Lindelen with one hand; but the elf caught him by the wrist, twisting his arm until he heard bones snap. The king screamed as his arm fell limply to his side.

Lindelen silently pulled two objects from the belt around his waist. They both gleamed in the flickering candle light, the shining silver of the knife and the clear reflection of the glass bottle. At the sight of the deadly weapon Orin began to beg, pleading for his life.

Without a word Lindelen stepped in front of him, raising the knife to his throat. A quick flick of his wrist cut the main vein in the king's neck and the elf quickly caught the flowing blood in the bottle. He firmly pressed a cork into the top of the bottle and returned it to his belt.

**

As the unknown fear had grown Legolas had lurched from the bathing tub, hastily wrapping a soft towel around himself before he fell to his knees, shaking with the effort to stay calm. Where was this fear coming from?

He stifled a scream when a bolt of pain seared through his arm; his heart was beating so hard he feared it would shatter his chest. He leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest on the soft carpet on the ground, his back heaving with frightened breaths. He grit his teeth against a sudden pain that stabbed his neck.

**

The crown prince stared direly down at the knife in his hand, watching as the shining metal and slick blood caught the firelight. How he longed to gut this murdering son of a pig.

The king shook in the hands of his captors, watching the same knife, growing sick at the sight of his own blood; and his failure. Centuries of work, gone. He had lost his army. He had lost his kingdom. And now he would lose his life.

Lindelen raised the knife and slammed the hilt against the side of the king's head. He felt no satisfaction as the man fell limply to the ground. He would not be satisfied until this man, and all those that came with him, were dead.

"_Le innas gwanno an man le garo_." The prince promised the unconscious king as the two elves drug him from the room. **("You will die for what you have [done].")**

**

One last jolt of pain, like a blow to his temple so hard it made him see stars. Then it was over. Legolas spit out the bile that rose in his throat and blinked away the dizziness. The fear was gone. His heart slowed; his breathing calmed. The pain fled as quickly as it had come.

And now he would wait to obey the king's command.

**To Be Continued...**

Okay, there are two reasons why I updated so quickly. One being that if I got any more reviews I was going to faint. You guys are amazing! And two *pauses for dramatic effect* because there is only one more chapter!! That's right, the next one is the last one. The end. Omega. Done. Kapoot. And with the end I have an import question to ask you all as well. The next and final chapter will be posted... either Saturday or Sunday night.

Until next time!

Adrienne

**To my wonderful, and amazingly numerous, reviewers - **

**evil**** spapple pie -** I thought so too, but no. All these people kept asking, what happened? Did Aragorn stab him? I don't understand. *sighs* Silly people. And see, I fixed him. That's the joy of living in a world with magic. Nothing's impossible.

**silvertoekee**** -** Of course he's not going to die. He's got a quest to partake in remember?

**Vicki Turner -** Yes, that would be confusing.

**Amarie**** -** One. I try, I really do. I'm just not good at long chapters. Was this one better? Two. Ha! Everyday? Are you crazy? I wish I could, but no. No no no. Three. Yes, that does mean Thranduil is under the control of the poison, but the Arandant king still thinks he's dead. And of course I'm not going to kill off Aragorn. Goodness, how you people panic! *grins* Thank you very much for the long review. I appreciate it!

**Estel Elven Enchantress -** Is that better? The king is dead and now everything will turn out right.

**Gwyn**** -** I love to be mean though. *grins*

**Nesuli**** -** Well, at least you didn't have to wait long. And I'd say probably about 60% of the reviewers tried to attack me. But my bodyguards were worth their money, no one got through. :)

**Babymeeko**** -** Yes, and just as he starts to trust him, he goes and tries to kill him. Ah well.

**chip**** -** Will a bit of magic work?

**cherryfearie**** -** Etwins... that's kinda cute.

**EruvandeGreenleaf**** -** Well thank you very much. 

**Magicgirl810 -** OMG I did. *grins*

**Templa**** Otmena -** Well if one day early was so good, this must have given you a heart attack. And of course Elladan and Elrohir know. Who else was going to save Aragorn. It's not like I could let him die! Goodness!

**Viresse0 -** Goodnight child! Jeez!

**banana**** Gurl -** Of course I won't kill him. But I do so love to be cruel. *grins*

**Elven Kitten -** Yes, yes I am evil. And darn proud of it!

**Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown -** Hey, he tried. He tried his little heart out. There was nothing he could do!

**a**** randon boo -** Thank you! *hands you a cookie* You were my first ever flame! Yay!

**Deana -** Oh, I was just joking about that. Reading it again it was a little abrupt.

**candidus-lupis-full**** Moon -** Savvy. Well, I think anyway.

**Hellmarie**** - **I fixed it, see! They're okay! Please don't cry. *hands you a box of tissues*

**Senkensha**** -** Well thank you very much. I must say it makes me happy when people say that because I do try very hard to stay as true to Tolkien's work as possible. I mean, how can you tamper with pure genius? And I'm very honored to here that this was your first LotR story (at least on ff.net). And also very happy to hear that you are joining the ranks. Good luck on your own work!

**Coolio02 -** Yeah. Poor thing. He feels very very bad.

**tay**** -** Yes, most people seemed to share your opinion. I just like keeping my readers on their toes. :)

**NessaE**** -** Wow. That's a great compliment. Thank you very much!

**WakingDream**** -** I was wondering what happened too you. No worries though. And thank you for mentioning the deer. You're the only one that did and I was wondering how it went over. I was just like, hmm, this would be a little different, let's try it. I'm glad at least you thought it was good. And yes. Lots and lots of people were mad at me for chapter 15.

**Sareh**** -** Pulling 'lurkers' out of hiding is one of my favorite compliments, thank you. And I hope you got to 16 so that you know Legolas is alive. Your review in whole was very... yeah. Lol. Just yeah. Such great compliments, thank you so much for everything you said. There really is just too much to thank you for, it was all so wonderful. It really made my day, thank you. And also, I do realize that about my elvish. I didn't make the connection at first, but I have recently. I've just never changed it. Perhaps I should?

**tmelange**** -** Well thank you very much. I do love to keep people on their toes. :)

**LalaithoftheBruinen**** -** I love that phrase! I use it all the time. I didn't realize it came from him. That's funny.

**Kept-Secret -** Well I was born to break the rules! *laughs hysterically*

**Angel Ecstasy -** Well, I was in negotiations to give my story to the prince of Lala land, but I suppose you may have it instead. Can I come to the ceremony? And yes, tortured Legolas is the best Legolas.

**lolly**** pop3 -** Yes, yes I do. And I'm glad I made your bad day a little better.

**MelanyeBaggins**** -** *backs away with hands in the air* I fixed it! See? I fixed it! *hides*

**MG87 -** What is this weird power you have over me all of a sudden? Hmm? I don't think I like this. :) And yes, dramatic drama is always a good thing. *grins*

**Lady Aqawondel -** Oh how I love to be evil. :)

**Cosmic Castaway - **Ack! *makes a desperate grab for her Aragorn poster* Please give it back now. Please? I made a long chapter. And it was early. *gives you my best puppy dog eyes* Pretty please with Legolas on top?


	18. A Hollow Victory

Okay, so I was editing this chapter and I decided that it worked better in two parts. But rather than risk your wrath (your death threats from chapter 16 still give me nightmares) I posted both parts. So you have a chapter and an epilogue. The responses to your reviews are at the end of this one, the question (which has become questions, plural) is at the end of the next one. Be sure you read it!

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Chapter 18 - A Hollow Victory**

Thranduil stared at his reflection in the mirror. Dark eyes, red from tears, drifted over the fine robe, dusky blue silk trimmed with real silver. Over the sparkling rings on his fingers. Over the shoes that could be called nothing but delicate, tiny sapphire chips rimming the edges, glinting in the dying sunlight.

But these fine things he did not, could not, see. What he saw, as he looked into the clear surface that few in the world could ever hope to possess, were bright blue eyes that would never see again. Dark red lips that would never smile. Long blonde hair that he had braided for the first time as his youngest child had sat on his knee, begging for stories of the wars he had seen.

But he also saw tears. He saw a youthful face contorted in fear during the throes of a nightmare. He saw the dark blood that had been spilt by cruel hands. He saw the cold face that had replaced a shining light.

He saw his son in that mirror, staring back in his own reflection. His little leaf. Stolen. Broken. Shattered.

His eyes slid closed and he could hear the shallow breathing of the man, the demon, that was locked in his bathing room. He had taken the potion that would sever the link between him and those that would control him. So why did he still feel their taint? 'You will pay for this.' He promised the man. 'For every drop of blood my son lost at the hands of your people, both now and so many centuries ago, you will pay.'

"_Adar_?" He heard his eldest, nay his only, son say.

"Yes, _ion nin_?" He asked. His eyes opened and he turned to meet the tired eyes of the crown prince. **(... ,**** my son?")**

"It is time, _Adar_."

Thranduil nodded and followed his son from the room.

**

"With any luck no more of Mirkwood's people will suffer the torment of slavery that Legolas endured." Elrohir sighed sadly as the three Silvan elves disappeared around a bend in the hall, leading the Arandant king with them.

"You are certain this poison will work, Estel?" Elladan asked again.

Strider thought of the wizened old man that was not so old, the murky eyes that saw so much. "Yes." He said, visions of the father he never knew swimming through his head. "I am certain."

Elrohir turned and made his way back into Thranduil's chambers. "Tell me, brother. Why does the king go so willingly when he knows he finds only death at the end?"

Elladan took a firm hold of Strider's arm and pulled him gently from the hall, following his twin. "He knows the depth of Thranduil's hatred for him. I promised him a swift execution when it was finished."

Elrohir came to a sudden stop, spinning around quickly to face his brother. "Thranduil, nor Lindelen or Avarilas agreed to such a deal."

Elladan stared out the window that led to the balcony, not meeting his brother's stare. "Ai. And because I am in their kingdom and not my own my promise holds no merit over their wishes. But the wretched creature does not know that."

The elf and the Ranger stared at their brother in shock as he walked out to the balcony.

**

The banquet hall was silent as Orin, king of the Arandant entered the room. He stared out at his most faithful of captains, a smile of victory spreading over his face. "My friends," He said, his voice soft, malicious. "We have won."

The nearly empty hall filled with so much noise of cheering and shouting that it took some time for Orin to regain control. "Feast your eyes on the future, where we reign as kings over all Middle-Earth!" He turned to the doors from which he had entered, his arms spreading wide. The Men cheered again as a line of elves, a line of slaves, began to walk through the doors, lead by the king of the elves.

Thranduil came to a stop at Orin's side, bowing deeply as the rest of the servers stopped beside each captain. The sight of the human's shaking hands, the smell of his sweat as he played a mockery of the victory he should have had, was all that stopped the elven king from running a knife through the Man's heart.

Orin turned back to his men, hands still spread wide. "Feast, my friends. Enjoy your victory."

In perfect sync the elven servers placed the silver trays in front of the Men, removing their covers to show the steaming decadence beneath.

"From the king's own kitchens." Orin said proudly, holding a gleaming wineglass, filled with thick red wine, for the men to see. He took a small sip, then shook his head and emptied the glass at Thranduil's feet. The dark red liquid splashed over the stones, spraying the hem of the king's robes with sweet droplets of red.

"I think I'd prefer a white wine." He said as he replaced the cup to the table with shaking fingers. The men all crowed in laughter them began to feast as Thranduil obeyed the 'command', his hand clenched white-knuckled around the bottle of white wine.

Thranduil, Lindelen, Avarilas, and the other elves that they had brought into their plan watched as the Men devoured the decadent meal. As they groaned in pleasure as venison in raspberry sauce slid down their throats. As the freshest fish was carefully chewed to savor every taste. As they raved to each other of the dishes on their plates, as they shared the bountiful earnings of a war not yet won. They did not see, or did not care, that their king did not eat with them.

Avarilas stared blankly at the wall across the way as the men ate their own deaths. His dark eyes saw things in the gray stones that no other could. He saw his days as a youth, training every day, whether rain or shine, for one soul purpose. He saw the day he had met his young charge, still a child while he was barely a man. He saw the first day that child had run from him. He saw the last.

He saw in that stone wall, as his king had seen in the mirror, all the days of laughter he had shared with a beautiful spirit, and all the days of pain that spirit had suffered. This death, a quick death of poison, was not nearly good enough for him. His hands ached to feel their bodies writhing in pain beneath his touch.

Movement at the hall entrance caught his eye and he turned his head from the visions in the stone. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open in silent words as the youngest prince of Mirkwood walked obediently through the open doors.

In the next moment he saw three things at once. He saw the face of his beloved prince crumble with sorrow as his eyes took in the image of his people, of his father and brother, serving the men who had enslaved him. He saw the eyes of his king widen in a flood of emotions as he saw his son, alive and whole, walk through the door. And he saw one small, shaking figure rise from the head of the table and rush towards the prince, madness in his eyes and a knife in his hands.

The only thing that crossed through the young guards mind as he leapt over the table and towards his prince, his charge, his friend, was that now he could make amends for all the times he had failed and the prince had suffered. Now he would fulfill his duty, the way he always should have. 

Each step towards Legolas, towards the king with raised knife aimed for the prince's back, seemed an eternity. Men and elves alike dove from his path but not quickly enough; the very stones seemed to slip beneath his feet. And then his hands were on the prince's shoulders and he was pulling him around, turning so that their positions were changed. So that it was his back the knife entered. His heart the blade pierced.

**

Legolas caught the crumpled body of his dearest friend and sunk to the ground. He heard Lindelen shout; saw his brother pull the human king away from them in the corner of his eye. He heard the hysterical laughter of the ruined man as he was drug from the room and the sound of the elves drawing weapons from their robes as the captains stood around them.

His head bent over the body in his arms and silent tears slid down his face, dripping onto his friend's pale skin, filling the crack of his smiling lips.

**To Be continued (for the last time *sob*)...**

What? *looks at all the glaring reviewers* Hey, at least it wasn't Legolas okay! Now go! There's still one more to read! Go!

**To my wonderful reviewers whom I adore so much - **

First, I'd like to say to all of you that you are by far the most amazing people on the planet. Such dedication each week. So many wonderful things that you say. Each of you makes me so happy. To wake up in the morning after I've posted and see all your wonderful reviews. It's one of the best feelings in the world. I cannot thank you enough. It's been quite a ride these past weeks, and you have all made it an absolutely joyful one. You are amazing!

**Babymeeko**** -** They're still workin' on it!

**Vicki Turner -** *claps* You did it! I'm so proud!

**Amarie**** -** You're very welcome! Thanks for reviewing!

**MelanyeBaggins**** -** Of course they had the other ingredients. Strider got them from Torlin before he left. Duh! *grins*

**Jopru**** -** Yes, yes. I know. I'm evil. Bad cliffies. I've heard it all before. And yet, the cliffies are still there! :)

**azla**** -** Well so that he could control him, silly.

**Estel Elven Enchantress** - Of course Legolas is going to live. Why don't you people get this?! Do you see an AU warning? Huh? No. Therefore, that means Legolas is going to live for at least 60 more years so that he can go on The Quest! Goodness but you people don't pay attention. *grins* And you may proceed for your dramatic climax and you vote.

**tmelange**** -** Right.

**Cosmic Castaway -** I must say, you reviews have been very... frightening. *hides behind Aragorn* They have been greatly appreciated though.

**Luaren**** Jankowski -** Thank you very much for your review. And stick around. I'm sure I'll do your hurt/comfort of choice eventually. :)

**Silvertongue**** -** Thank you!

**EruvandeGreenleaf**** -** Thank you very much!

**cherryfearie**** -** Wow. You were very giggly. Lol. Just kidding. It was cute. And yes, Legolas is free now.

**Magicgirl810 -** Thanks!

**Gwyn**** -** I would never be THAT mean! Goodnight, what do you take me for, a sadist?

**LalaithoftheBruinen**** -** Well, I do rather like our president. But to each his own. And the sequel thing is up to you! Go read and see what I mean.

**Kept-Secret -** Hmm. I've seen a lot of people be happy about elf torture, but never quite so... blatant about it. lol. And yeah, I was excited to get my flame. I've read all these other stories where the author's were complaining about flames, and I felt left out. lol. *hands you a cookie*

**Ruby Foxburr of Loamsdown -** Yes, yes they do.

**Elven Kitten -** Never!

**Ella-elbereth7 -** I totally agree. I've read many a story where I was just... finish it! I'm glad you don't think mine is one of them. And you understood chapter 16 just fine as far as I'm concerned.

**Lilli**** -** You're welcome. And no. lol. BIG no, I have not written anything professionally. Thanks for the encouragement to do so though. That's a big compliment. And yes, I have written one other story. It is the predecessor to this one and it is called 'Memories of Ilithien'. You can find it at my profile.

**Lady Aqawondel -** Technicalities. Yes, Legolas should be knocked out. But I didn't want him to be, so you hush. And I sorta made it end in two chapters. Is that better?

**tay**** -** Well, that depends on what you mean by alright. :)

**Templa**** Otmena -** Mellon nin, I would like to thank you for being so wonderful and sticking out with me through the whole darned thing. You reviews are truly wonderful. I always look forward to them. *hands you a band aide* Sorry about that. *grins*

**Viresse0 -** lol. You review was very entertaining. I was laughing so hard I almost fell out of my chair. It was ridiculous. Oh and, I hope you feel better. Yeah. :P

**Ashley -** You review was wonderful. I always love the long ones the best. I'm glad you enjoyed both of my stories so much. And *starts talking in creepy hypnotized voice* Angst is good. Don't be ashamed. Join us. *coughs* Yes. Good. And as for the website, IU tried to e-mail it too you, but I got this message that said user unknown. I don't know what that was all about, but I'm going to try to get it to work here. - - I hope it works this time. If not, I'll try your e-mail again. And, yay! *hands you a cookie* You were my 400 review! Thanks so much!

**WakingDream**** -** *glares* Yes I realize that I use a lot of comas (well, now I do thanks to the stupid flamer) but there are just places where you need to pause and you won't unless I put a coma. *stops glaring* Okay, on to the rest of you review. Goodness! Yes, technically Legolas should have been unconscious as well, but I didn't want him to be. So you hush. And yes, Orin gave the elves the poison, but it wasn't specifically linked to him. It was more of a all encompassing link. They're connected to all of the Arandant. I would have explained that, but I didn't know where to put it without sounding stupid. And once again, yes. Strider believed that Legolas was dead because he's young and emotional and been through a whole heck of a lot in the past few weeks. And yes. Elves my be immortal, but they still have bodily functions. *gasp* Who have thunk it! *takes a deep breath* Last thing. I'm gonna send you an e-mail concerning you betaing for me. So look for that sometime tomorrow afternoon. My time.

**MG87 -** Yes, yes I did. And it made a lovely s'more too. And sorry. Powers didn't work this time. But it's here now so it's okay. And mellon nin, I just want to thank you for sticking it out for yet another one with me. You are fabulous darling. Absolutely fabulous!

**Sparrow Greenleaf -** Ummm... *licks fingers and puts out candle like Aragorn from FotR* Ha! 

**lolly**** pop3 -** Thank you!


	19. Epilogue: Perhaps

Enjoy it because there is no more!

**" Leaves**** of Glass "**

**Epilogue - Perhaps**

The youngest son of Thranduil walked slowly down the stone steps that lead to the prison cells of Mirkwood's palace. His eyes were rimmed in red, his fair skin still held traces of the tears he had shed at Avarilas' funeral. His black robes slid over the stone as he reached the bottom and turned, searching out the deepest of prisons. He could hear the same dark laughter that he had heard for weeks as an echo in his head; that he had heard two short days ago as his friend lay dying in his arms.

But this time the laughter held no malice or dark intent. It held no anger or hysteria. It held only the deepest desperation of a man that had lost everything.

_"He does not deserve a swift death." Thranduil argued once again._

_"The other's received one." Legolas said softly, his voice tinted with sorrow and the same edge of fear that the king had prayed to never hear again. As they spoke the dead bodies of the most powerful of the Arandant were being taken to the darkest places of the forest. The creatures there would see them destroyed._

_"We had no control over that." Thranduil insisted. "We had to kill them as we did in order to break the link with our people."_

_Legolas stood and walked to the door of his father's rooms. The last time he had entered these rooms was to kill him. "I am the one he has wronged." The prince said, his back turned to his father. "It is my choice how he dies. I want him dead now. I want this over with now."_

He had reached the cell, could see the man that had taken so much from him through the bars in the tiny window. The ruined king sat curled in one corner, his body already a mass of bruises and blood, laughing. He did not move when Legolas turned the lock and entered the room.

The prince walked slowly over to the cowering man, once a proud king with the world at his fingertips, and pulled a knife from his belt. As he knelt beside him he saw visions of the past that he wanted nothing more than to forget. Visions of his own beaten and bloody body, curled into a corner, waiting for death that would not come.

In truth, he too wanted this man to suffer. He wanted him to feel the pain that he had been through. Wanted him to beg for the death he had given to Avarilas. Wanted to hear his tormented screams as he spent each moment of each day wondering when he would go mad from it all.

But he could not let the people he loved become this man. He could not let them give up their own souls to the same darkness that had taken this man's soul, and the soul of the woman who had been lost to the darkness centuries ago. He could not spend the rest of his long years seeing this man in the eyes of the people he loved.

He placed the dagger below one of the shaking man's ears then swiftly drew it across his throat to the other, slitting the arteries and the windpipe. He did not stay to watch his final breath; though the memory of its sound would forever haunt his dreams.

**

Thranduil clasped the young Ranger's arm gently. "Thank you for everything you have done for my son. Both now and years ago after Ilithien's death. You are a true friend. You are welcome in my kingdom any time."

Strider did not know what to say so he simply bowed. Thranduil nodded and turned to say his farewell's to the twins. Strider turned as well, to the presence that had appeared on his left. He looked into the prince's dark eyes and once again said nothing.

Legolas stared back at the young human, finally seeing in his eyes what was always there. Strength and honor. He reached out and grasped the man tightly on the shoulder, a sign of greeting, farewell, and thanks among warriors. This time perhaps it was all three. Strider smiled cautiously and returned the gesture.

"Where do you go now?" The prince asked as he pulled his hand back.

"To the camp where the rest of their army is." Strider said. He smiled inwardly. The feel of the elf's hand would linger long on his shoulder, for it was the first time the prince had ever willing made contact with him. "It is two weeks yet before they are scheduled to reach your forest and we intend to have them all destroyed well before then. We have the poison now. It will be simple."

"The slaves will be freed as well. Good." Legolas said, satisfaction covering his face. "Perhaps once that is accomplished, and I have assured my people once again that I am not dead, I will return to Rivendell."

"Ai." Strider nodded, then waved over his shoulder at his brother's call. "My brother's would like that."

"And you?" The prince asked.

Strider nodded, his eyes locked to the ground. "Ai. I would as well. Though I still doubt you'd want to see me."

Legolas laughed. "After what we've been through... after what you've done for me. I think it is high time I stopped hating you."

Strider looked up at him, a wide smile on his face. "Though," The prince continued, a smile pulling at his own mouth. "It does rather disturb me how easy it was for you to kill me."

The smile immediately fell from Strider's face and he stared at the prince in shock and outrage. "Easy!" He yelled. "Easy?! Are you joking! I-"

"Peace, child!" The prince laughed loudly, raising a hand to still the vehement protests. "I was kidding. I know what strength it must have taken for you to do that. And you have my eternal thanks for it."

Strider glared at the prince, waved impatiently at his brother as the elf called to him again. "I'm not a child." He muttered under his breath as he turned to leave.

Legolas smiled, weighing his millennia against the boy's few short years. Even at his oldest, the brave young soul would still be a child. "What would you have me call you then?" The prince asked, his tone not quite masking his humor completely.

Strider turned back around and stared at the prince for a long moment. Then, "Friend, perhaps?"

Legolas smiled again. "Perhaps."

**The End**

*looks up* *blinks* *looks again*

Yup. That's it. That's the end. It's been quite a ride, but as they say, all good things must come to an end.

*steps up to microphone* *pulls piece of paper out of pocket*

First, I'd like to thank God for giving me this ability. I'd like to thank my muses, who gave me the inspiration to create this story in the first place. I'd like to thank ff.net for making it possible for me to share my dreams with others. I'd also like to thank my idol, J.R.R. Tolkien, for being the basis on which my whole LotR fanfiction career was formed; you will always be sorely missed dear sir. I'd like to thank all those who were involved in the making of this story. Me. A big thanks to Viggo Mortensen and Orlando Bloom for being the beautiful models for my work, you guys are awesome. My reviewers, for giving me that little extra nudge whenever I wanted to give up. And finally, I'd like to thank New Zealand.

Ummm... yeah. So here's my question(s).

Question 1) Okay, here's the deal. This story took me a lot longer to write than I thought it would. Like... a LOT longer. And now it is almost April, and in May I will be leaving my home to spend the summer as a councilor at a camp in Colorado. I will have very VERY limited internet access and will in no way shape or form be able to post any form of story whatsoever during that period. That in mind, do you want me to begin writing a new story, with the very real possibility that it will not be finished before I have to leave and therefore would come to the point of a 2 and a half month gap between updates? It's your choice. If you want it, I will write it. But seriously consider the fact that I may not finish it before I have to leave.

Question 2) If you answered yes to the above question (if you answered no, move on and review, this is not for you) what story do you want? Do you want the far overdue story of Legolas' first capture by the Arandant? Though you know the basics of what happened, I still intend on putting it into detail (i.e. all the gory angst that happened to our dear prince in a 10 to 20 chapter story). OR... do you want a sequel? The further story of the lives of our favorite Ranger and elf and the continuation of their budding friendship (along with a good amount of gory angst)? I know I promised several of you that my next story would be of Legolas' history, but you know what happened now in the Reader's Digest version, so I am once again leaving it up to you. Prequel or Sequel?

That is it. That is the end. No more ramblings. Leave you answers to the questions in you reviews and one week from today I will post the results on this story.

Until next time!

Adrienne


End file.
